#it stopped hurting within the week but that was because i wore the brace and took enough codeine to cause chaos in the united states

[fingertipsmp3]

2022 heard me saying that it was a shit year but at least it didn’t try to kill me as many times as 2021 did, and was like ‘y’know what? Let’s end this bitch’ and made me sprain my knee again

[ariana-winchester95]

Welcome to the Jungle

Pairing: Carpet Python Shifter Min Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: 18+, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (stay safe out there), snake tail sex, biting, sub!yoongi, aftercare, soft boyfriend Yoongi, Yoongi has a split tongue and two cocks.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this, I wrote this because my best friend was complaining about the lack of Snake Hybrids AUs for Yoongi, so I took one for the team. Feedback is very welcome.

It had been a few weeks since I received a call to retrieve a Carpet Python from a backyard across town. Usually, I take reptiles back to the enclosures at the local zoo, but there was something different about this one. He was smaller than a regular-sized adult python. I expected a fight getting near the snake, but it never came, almost like he was too scared to fight. I have observed him over the past few weeks, doing nothing else but eating and sleeping.

One morning, I checked on the snake, but the tank was empty, the lid a-jar. I searched the room but found no trace of the snake. Huffing, I went off looking for the snake; I stopped dead in my tracks once I reached the lounge room, my eyes catching a glimpse of a figure moving in the kitchen.

"Looking for me?" The figure said, back still turned towards me.

Stepping in the kitchen, I let out a small gasp at the sight of him. He wore black sweatpants paired with an oversized t-shirt, but that is not what caught my attention. The visible tail, the same patterning of the snake from the backyard. The intricately patterned scales on the back of his and flowing down his arms.

"Who are you?" I asked, coming to a stop as I heard the man sigh heavily before speaking.

"I guess I have some explaining to do." He spoke, his hands sliding along the sink's edge before taking a deep breath and turning around, facing me, squinting slightly. I raised an eyebrow once I caught his gaze, "My name is Yoongi, and I'm the snake you saved from that backyard."

"How?" I questioned, stepping closer, and as I did, the sunlight hit his eyes, making them appear yellowish-green.

"I was an experiment, deemed a failure. I was created in a facility experimenting on humans to develop mixed DNA species, but something went wrong during their experimentation on me." He explained, his voice sounding distant as he reflected on the memory.

"What happened?" I asked softly.

"The DNA mixed perfectly with mine, but they discovered that I could shift into a snake. They told me that they didn't want a venomous snake in their facility in fear that I would kill anyone that got near me. They said I was too dangerous." Yoongi turned his head, eyes trained on the backyard through the window as he explained further.

"I'm sorry, but they got it wrong. You're a carpet python, correct?" I asked, pausing a moment to let Yoongi nod. "They're non-venomous to humans. So you're not dangerous at all." I continued, leaning against the counter.

"What?" He gasped, his narrow eyes widening, "So if I were to touch you, you would be okay?" Yoongi question softly, stepping closer, so close that I can easily see the colours in his eyes.

"They truly do not know anything of your species," I said, more to myself. "Snakes are only venomous by biting, not touching. So considering you are non-venomous, you'd only have to be careful of your bite. You are harmless to humans."

"How do you know all of this?" Yoongi asked, his lisp showing even more now that he's starting to comfortable.

"I am a herpetologist, an expert in reptiles. That is the reason why I came to retrieve you in the backyard, in your snake form."

"So, if what you are saying is true," Yoongi spoke to himself rather than me. "I can do this."

Before I could ask what he meant, his fingers were lightly touching the top of my hand. Shivers ran through my body, the nerves in my body igniting. My eyes travelled up his arm to his face, watching the expressions cross his features as he applies more pressure to my hand. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion before raising in wonder as he realised that I was telling the truth.

"You were right; I believe you now." He spoke softly, still looking at the spot where his fingers trace across my skin, then he looked up, catching my gaze. "I trust you."

The longer his gaze bore into mine, the more body seemed to tingle, and I can tell he feels it as well. His hand then moved to grasp mine, my hand fitting perfectly in his as if it were his to hold. He uttered a word under his breath; before I had the chance to clarify what he said, he pulled me to him. A breath left my mouth as I collided with his broad chest; I stood frozen, his hand the only thing keeping me upright. I held my breath as I felt his fingers now tracing my cheek lightly, his eyes following their movements in amazement.

"How I've craved to touch someone without fear of killing of them, and here I am, touching you, and you're still standing. I realise now how deprived I've been." He monologued, his thumb tracing over my bottom lip. His body vibrated against mine, something that male snakes do before mating a female to excite her, and it's working. The notion sent a spark flowing through my body, heading south to my core.

Yoongi stared at me a moment longer before he leaned down and captured my lips with his. I closed my eyes after a few seconds of shock, and then, his lips disappeared. He placed his forehead against mine, his hands on my waist, holding me close. Looking up, I found his snake eyes staring at me as I smiled softly.

Yoongi breathed in deeply as his nose reached my hair, nuzzling right in. His nose traced over the skin of my cheek, his breath fanning over my jaw. Then, he lightly moved a hand up from my waist to bury it within my hair.

"You smell of vanilla and citrus—my favourites." He murmured, closing his eyes and breathing in my scent. "No wonder I feel safe here. It all smells like you. My mate."

I barely had any time to process his words before his lips were on mine again, my heart pounding against my rib cage. This kiss was firmer than before, more heated like something snapped in him as he moaned into my mouth. My hands moved on their own accord, trailing up his broad chest to the back of his neck, feeling when I felt scales gracing his skin. Yoongi let out a little moan as I tugged on his hair, causing his hips to roll into mine.

"I need you," Yoongi whispered against my lips. "I can smell you." The hand on my waist tightened upon smelling my arousal.

I pulled away from him with a smirk on my face, contrasting his confusion. I trailed my hand down the length of his arm to grasp his hand. Then, walking backwards, I tugged him to follow me as I lead him to the bedroom.

Entering the bedroom, I took the opportunity to shove the curious snake against the wall. He let out a breath as his back hit the wall, his eyes moving to look directly at me. I rolled my hips into his, just like he did before, and he let out the prettiest of moans.

"You sound so pretty for species so feared." I purred, running my hands up and down his chest as he breathed deeply. "I wonder, what other sounds you can make from the pretty mouth of yours." Yoongi visibly swallowed hard before running his split tongue over his bottom lip as he let his mind wander.

I leaned back and trailed my hands downwards, pushing my hands underneath his t-shirt, his body shuddering when my fingertips came into contact with his skin. I moved fingers ever so lightly over his stomach up to his firm chest and over his nipples. Yoongi hissed when my fingers brushed over the tiny buds; I smirked in satisfaction.

"So sensitive and responsive," I noted as I continued flicking the sensitive buds. Yoongi's head thudded against the wall, his body squirming and little whimpers gracing my ears.

"It hurts." Yoongi hissed out, rolling his hips into mine. I looked down as I felt his big problem press into my thigh.

"Do you need some help, baby?" I teased, running my hands down to the waistband of his sweats, watching as he nodded and squeezing his eyes shut.

I pulled the elastic band slightly and let it snap back against his skin, giggling as his body jumped at the motion, his hands clenching at his sides. Then, slowly, I let my hand slide past the waistband and into his boxers. Yoongi hissed harshly as I lightly touched his cock, rolling his hips into my fingers, chasing the friction he desperately needed.

"Please," Yoongi begged, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as my hand wrapped around him. I gasped when my fingertips touched something underneath his cock.

"I should have known," I started, reaching my hand further before coming into contact with a second cock, "snakes have two cocks. So here you are with two." I smirked.

Yoongi let out a groan of frustration as I pulled my hand out of his sweatpants. Hooking my fingers in the waistband, I pulled down his sweatpants to his ankles as I kneeled before him. Scales lined the pale skin of his thighs and calves. He let out a moan as his cocks were released into the warm air. I couldn't take my eyes away from the two angry, red cocks in front of me.

I threw Yoongi's sweatpants to the side once he stepped out of them and ran my hands up the length of his legs, brushing over his scales before bracing myself on his thighs, feeling the muscles flex under my touch as I looked up at Yoongi through my lashes. His snake-like eyes looked back at me, running his split tongue over his lips again as I moved my hands closer towards his cocks. Yoongi hissed once I wrapped both hands around a cock each, his tailing winding around one of my wrists as I slowly pumped both at the same pace.

"So pretty," I admired, rubbing my thumbs over the tips, spreading the pre-cum around the heads of his cocks. "I wonder what you taste like."

I barely gave Yoongi time to comprehend my words before leaning forward and pressing my lips to one of his cocks while stroking the other. Relishing in the way that Yoongi groaned and threw his head back with a thud against the wall. Next, I ran my tongue over the underside of his cock, spurred on by hearing Yoongi moan and gasp at the stimulation on both cocks.

"You taste delicious." I praised, realising his cock with a pop and licking my lips.

"God," Yoongi breathed as I drew his cock back into my mouth, lightly sucking. His hands moved to grasp my hair, keeping me in place as he thrusted his hips into my mouth and hand.

I took as much of him as I could before I started to gag. Then, drawing back, I swirled my tongue around the head before repeating the same action and taking him deep into my throat as I moved my hand to massage his balls. Yoongi's legs nearly gave out from the amount of stimulation he was receiving; my hand and mouth still working his cocks, and now my other hand caressing his balls.

"Stop, baby," Yoongi strained, pulling me off of him and uncoiling his tail from my wrist. Finally, I released him with a pop. I then looked up at him with a slight tilt to my head. "I'm going to cum if you keep that up, but I wanna cum in you."

Yoongi moved his hands moved from my hair to my hands. Grasping them, he gently pulled me up to a stood position. He then raised a hand to my face, cupping it as he used his thumb to wipe a bit of drool away, smiling softly.

"Will you let me cum inside you, jagi?" Yoongi asked softly, caressing my cheek with his thumb, smearing my drool over the skin, as I looked up at him in a love-drunk state, nodding slowly.

I let Yoongi lead me over to my bed, stopping to stand next to it. His hands travelled to the hem of my shirt, silently asking to take it off. I placed my hands next to his, grasping the hem before taking it off and flicking it somewhere on the floor. Yoongi seemed to freeze for a moment, his eyes taking in my almost naked appearance. Then, he gently placed his hands on my waist, his barely-there touch causing goosebumps to apparently.

Yoongi slowly traced his fingers over the soft skin of my stomach before lightly running over my lace bra. I shivered as his fingers made contact with the skin of my breasts, as he cupped them over the bra. I made a move to undo my pants, bending down slightly to push down over the curve of my ass and letting them pool at my feet vectored they come to the same fate as my shirt.

"Wow," Yoongi whispered, taking me all in as I stood there in front of him in nothing but my lingerie. "You're more beautiful than I imagined."

A shy smile made its way onto my lips as I looked down in embarrassment, softly chuckling, a soft blush creeping its way onto my cheeks. Then, I felt Yoongi place a finger under my chin, coaxing me to look back up at him. My heart skipped a beat as my eyes caught his gaze, the look of pure love evident within the chocolate orbs.

"You needn't hide from me," he spoke with such sincerity, his thumb running over my bottom lip, "you're stunning."

Yoongi swiftly took off his shirt, discarding it somewhere in the room before settling himself on top of my bed, patting the space next to him. Crawling my way to join him, he pulled me onto his lap once I was within reach. I let out a gasp as his cock pressed into my clothed core, his tail coiling around my thigh. His hands settled on my ass, his fingers squeezing the flesh as he moved my hips forward, making me grind against him. My head fell into his shoulder as I let out an involuntary moan, my hands holding onto his biceps.

"Please," I didn't know what I was asking for, but I knew I need more.

My hips moved on their own accord, chasing the friction I desperately craved. Yoongi's hands travelled up along my spine, stopping at the clasp of my bra. He lightly ran his fingers along the bottom of it before coming back to the middle and undoing the clasp. Then, bringing his hands to my shoulders, he gently pushed me off his shoulders so he could witness my breasts become bare before his eyes.

Yoongi took his time taking the bra off, lightly pulling the straps down my shoulders and then dropping it on the floor next to the bed, his eyes never leaving my breasts as he did so. Cupping his large hands around my breasts, he pushed them together and then let them fall back into place. The motion caused my mouth to fall open, closing my eyes. Yoongi lightly moved his fingers over the mounds, but never touching my nipples, already erect and hard for him.

"Yoongi," I moaned, rolling my hips against his cocks, burying my hands in his hair.

Yoongi leaned forward, connecting our lips in a soft kiss, and at the same time, kneading my breasts, causing me to moan into his mouth. Yoongi trailed his kisses over my cheek and down along my neck, sucking purple blemishes in his wake. I leaned back slightly once Yoongi reached the tops of my breasts, his snake eyes flicking up to mine. My breath caught in my throat, his split tongue moved out past his lips, reaching out and flicking my nipple, his tongue on either side of the erect bud.

"Oh god," I moaned out at the unusual sensation, throwing my head back and pulling his face closer to my breast.

Yoongi took the hint, wrapping his around my nipple, gently sucking as he kneaded the other. His free hand roaming my curves, his hand danced over my stomach on thighs before settling on my ass. My back arched into him as Yoongi flicked his snake tongue against my nipple rapidly, breathy moans left my mouth and filled the air. His hand moved from my ass to lightly trace over my clothed centre.

"I can feel how wet you are, jagi?" Yoongi spoke into the room, moving my panties to the side.

Yoongi ran a finger through my wet folds, collecting my arousal on his fingertip. My eyes followed as he bought his finger to his mouth, openly using his tongue to taste it. The sight sent a shiver down my spine, adding the fire already burning in the pit of my stomach.

"You taste sweet, my dear," he praised, his eyes glinting as he smiled softly.

Yoongi's finger returned to my core, this time running two fingers through my folds. I squeaked when his fingers flicked over my clit, my hands grabbing onto his shoulders as my head fell forward. He rubbed firm circles over my clit and pinched my nipple between his fingers simultaneously, drawing little moans from me, rutting my hips into his hand. His fingers moved towards my entrance, pushing the tip of his in and then bringing it back out. I groaned in frustration as he repeated the action a few more times before finally sinking his index finger inside me.

"You're so tight," Yoongi mused as I became a blubbering mess on top of him, "I'm going to have you stretch you out real good if you're going to take me."

"Yoongi, please," I breathed desperately, looking into his eyes.

Yoongi's hand rose from my breast to my neck as the other kept pumping in and out. He wrapped his hand around my throat, gently squeezing as he added another finger inside me. Curling them towards him, quickly finding my g-spot, he continued to hit it with every thrust of his fingers.

"Yoongi," I whispered, feeling my high about to hit. Instead, Yoongi pulled his fingers out of me, halting my orgasm. I groaned in response.

"Not just yet," Yoongi stated, bring his hand up to my cheek, gently brushing his thumb over my skin. "I have something in mind. Do you trust me?"

Wordlessly, I nodded my head with a small, blissed-out smile. Yoongi, then, shuffled us down further so that he could lay his head against the pillows. He wrapped his arms around my waist, cuddling me to him. His cocks now rubbing between our stomachs.

Yoongi uncoiled his tail from my thigh, his hands holding onto my hips. He softly ran the tip over my skin, causing me to shiver against him, my own hands finding their place on his shoulders. His breath hitched as my movement gave gentle friction against his cocks. Yoongi moved his tail over the curve of my ass. I gasped as I felt the appendage brush against my entrance.

"Easy," he reassured, moving the tip of his tail through my folds, coating the appendage in my wetness.

The tip of his tail returned to my entrance, circling before gently pushing inside as his hands ran up and down my spine. I gasped at the strange feeling, but it felt so good at the same time. He pulled his tail out before pushing it back in, a little deeper this time, causing me to squirm. He whispered sweet nothings as his tail was pushed in deeper, stretching me out, his hand moving up my spine to hold onto the back of my neck.

Yoongi curled the tip, making it hit my g-spot, causing me to let out a moan as my hips started to grind against him. He kept thrusting his extra appendage against that spot, my juices flowing out and onto him. His tail was now stretching me further, my slick aiding to the penetration. He trailed his hand to my chin, pulling my face in front of him and drawing me closer to connect our lips in a feverish kiss.

"I need your cock in me," I whispered against his lips, thrusting my hips to meet the thrusts of his tail.

"Is my tail not enough for you, jagi?" Yoongi teased, holding the side of my face in his large hand and pushing his tail deeper inside me, drawing a strangled moan from the back of my throat. "or are you just that much of a cockslut?"

"Yes," I let out a pathetic moan at the degradation, burying my face in his neck, clenching around his tail.

Yoongi moaned at the sensation, pressing his head further into the pillow, his grip tightening on my hip. He halted my movements, removing his tail from me. I whined at the loss of having him inside me. His hands moved to my shoulders, pushing me up, so I was straddling his hips.

"I want you to ride me," he expressed, running his hands over my thighs.

Showing Yoogni a smirk, I wrapped my hands around his cocks, pumping them slowly. Running both thumbs over the tip of his cocks, smearing the pre-cum leaking from them. I let go of one and brought my hand to his heavy balls, massaging them as Yoongi's hips rose and his body writhed beneath me.

"Please," Yoongi's voice came, his head tossed to the side, hair spread out across the pillow, hands now gripping at the sheets.

I tightened my hold at the base of his cock, causing Yoongi to let out a choked sob. In a matter of minutes, his aura changed. Gone was the confident man speaking what he wanted, now replaced with a needy and desperate sub. I smiled to myself at the realisation.

Rising to my knees, I positioned myself over his cock, teasing myself a little, rubbing the head of his cock through my wet folds, spreading our slick around my entrance. Yoongi opened his mouth to speak but let out a groan instead as I started to sink on his length. My walls clenching around him, drawing him in even more until he was completely buried inside me.

I let myself adjust to his size, and Yoongi tries to catch his breath, his chest dramatically rising and falling with his every breath. We both let out moans of relief as I started to roll my hips against his, bracing my hands on his chest.

"Amazing," Yoongi strained, holding my hips in his big hands, " you are still so tight."

Yoongi's hands guided my hips to rise, his cock barely inside my pussy before I took the liberty to slammed myself back down. The movement caused Yoongi to shout, his fingers digging into my flesh, most likely to cause bruising, but I didn't care.

I lightly ran my hands over his stomach as I returned to a grinding movement, watching the goosebumps rise in my wake. Yoongi's body writhed, letting out whines as I lightly traced a finger over the patterns and ridges of his neglected cock. He hissed as I wrapped my hand around him, pumping him in the rhythm as I bounced on his other cock.

"I'm gonna-" he started, the stimulation now becoming too much for him.

"No, you're not," I spoke sternly, relishing as he cried in frustration as I came to a halt, only clenching my walls around him. "Not yet anyway."

I resumed pumping his cock, this time with both hands, massaging him. His hands gripping the sheets, his back arching off the mattress. I raised my hips, clenching as I did so, before slowly lowering myself back down, repeating a few more times as Yoogni started to let out high pitched mewls.

"You sound so pretty, baby," I praised, pumping his cock with one hand and circling a finger around the tip of his cock with the other, "are you going to cum?"

"Yes," Yoongi vigorously nodded. Pained groans filled the room with each breath he let out. He pushed his feet into the mattress, thrusting up to meet me halfway.

I could feel my high approaching quickly. I braced a hand on Yoongi's chest, keeping a steady pace on his cock with my other hand. The top half of my body started to slump forward, my energy beginning to wear out. Yoongi noticed, moving his hands to my back. He let me fall against him before his hands travelled to my hips, halting my movements. He then used what was left of his energy to pound into me rapidly.

"Yoongi," I moaned, my breath fanning over his ear.

Our moans mingled together, our skin slapping filling the room as our high's quickly came. I moaned Yoongi's name as I clenched and released around him. Feeling me come around him, Yoongi thrusted faster like a mad man. His cocks twitched before he stilled and came with a groan, my name the only word he said before sinking his fangs into the soft skin of my neck. He came inside me, painting my walls white, filling me to the brim. We became still, his cock softening buried in my pussy.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi whispered in my ear, softly stroking my hair as I still tried to slow my breathing. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"I'm fine," I breathed, burying my face in his neck, "I'm perfect."

I pressed a soft kiss to his neck, weakly chuckling as I felt his cocks twitch. Yoongi swatted my ass in a warning.

"Don't," he spoke, using his hands to lift me off him gently, "let me calm down first."

I trembled with the promise of him taking me for a second time today. I rolled to the side, too exhausted to move. I heard Yoongi rise from the bed, walking off somewhere. He returned with a wet cloth in hand, using it to clean me up, stopping when he reached my pussy. I gasped as I felt him press two fingers to me, collecting our mixed juices spilling out of me and pushing the liquid back inside me before wiping over my pussy.

Yoongi discarded the cloth in the bin, then maneuvering me under the sheets before getting under himself. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me entirely against his body.

"Rest up, jagi," he whispered against my hair as I snuggled against his side, "we have a few more days of this, my mate."

Taglist: @alternateafterthought | @haven-raven012591 | @mitzwinchester

[halstudandruz]

Give In

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Tragedy occurs after a night of passion

Warnings: swearing, talk of mentally abusive relationship, miscarriage/pregnancy loss

“Don’t come crying to me when you need support for that mistake.” Jared scoffed, bringing tears to your eyes at his words.

“I should’ve never come here.” You shook your head, “I should’ve listened to Jay.” You put your hand over your stomach protectively.

“Oh here we go again. Because Jay knows everything, and I’m supposed to believe that’s my kid and not his in there? Spare me.” He laughed in your face.

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you I haven’t slept with him.” You yelled, getting angrier by the second.

“At least I can admit I fucked Sarah.” He shrugged.

“Well, I caught you so it’s not like you had an opportunity to lie.” You reminded him.

“I was doing perfectly fine the last 4 months. I must say though, I’m quite glad I won’t have to sit here and watch you get any fatter.” He smirked, a cocky look on his face. Trying to hurt you with his words.

“You’re such a jackass. I’m done with this.” You turned walking out of your once shared apartment, slamming the door behind you.

Jay had told you not to go there. Told you it would end bad, but you thought he deserved to know. He might’ve been a terrible boyfriend, but you figured he deserved a chance to be a decent father, but as always Jay was right. You and Jared had been together for over a year and your relationship was a rollercoaster. He was charming, but manipulative. He never hurt you physically, but he knew all the right ways to hurt you with his words, to make you feel self conscious, less than, and crazy. Then you found him in bed with your old friend, and that was the end of it. You finally had the courage to leave that you had been searching for. Except a couple months later you made the mistake of spending the night with him. The case you had that week really got to you. You were out drinking with your team when you caught Jay leaving with a nurse from Chicago Med, and jealousy reared its ugly head harder than ever before. Without thinking you ended up in front of your old apartment and the night did not end there. A month later you found out you were pregnant. Karma’s a bitch. Jay was the first person you told.

“You’re joking.” He looked at you shocked as you both stood in the break room.

“Believe me I wish I was.” You looked helplessly at him.

“Okay well what are you going to do?” He eventually asked after the shock wore off some.

“I’m gonna go apartment hunting this week. I swear I’ll be out soon.” You answered.

“What? No that’s not what I meant. I meant about the douchebag of the equation.” He explained.

“I mean I have to tell him.” You answered.

“What? No you don’t. You shouldn’t.” He countered.

“It’s his too Jay.” You tried to reason.

“[Y/N], if you go over there it’s going to end one of two ways. He somehow manipulates you into forgiving him or he hurts you worse than he already has.” He argued.

“So what am I supposed to do? Just lie to my kid when they’re old enough to ask questions?” You said.

“When did this even happen? You’ve been broken up for over a mon-“ He started to ask, but Adam interrupted your conversation peeking his head in.

“Hey, uh, sorry to interrupt,” he looked between you two suspiciously, “but we got a ping on Rudder’s phone.” He informed you guys as you followed him out the door.

You and Jay had been partners for 3 years. He was very standoffish when you first started. You were informed through the grapevine his last partner had left him and moved to New York. So, he had every right to be skeptical, but your relationship eventually progressed and you had a dynamic unlike any other. However, you were also like any other girl that came into contact with the younger Halstead, taken back by his good looks and determined yet soft nature, but he was just your partner. You worked together. You couldn’t get involved, and he was going through a rough break up. It wasn’t fair to try anything. Unfortunately, that didn’t lessen your attraction any further and it only got worse as your relationship developed.

Jay had offered to let you move in with him after you had caught Jared. You planned on finding an apartment right away, but things kept getting in the way and Jay wasn’t trying to push you out the door. Walking into his apartment you laid your keys on the stand hanging up your purse and coat before walking further in to find Jay sitting on the couch watching TV. Turning to face you he sighed immediately getting up to hug you, no words needing to be spoken. The anger finally took over showing itself by the tears that began to soak Jay’s neck. Eventually you gathered yourself moving to sit by him on the couch.

“I should’ve listened to you.” You laughed attempting to wipe the tears off your face. A small smile appeared on Jay’s lips as he shook his head.

“No, you shouldn’t have. You were right. This baby deserves the best life ever, and it wouldn’t have been fair to them if you didn’t give him a choice.” He said, hand tickling your stomach, making it flip at his touch.

“I just wish he made the right one.” You admitted, laughing.

“You deserve better. I’ve been telling you that since day one. I hated seeing how he treated you, how he changed you. You’ve always been too good for him, and you deserve someone who gives you and this little peanut the world.” He replied.

“Why can’t it be you?” You said after a few minutes of silence.

“What?” He looked at you confused, eyebrows scrunched.

“Do you know how this happened?” You gestured to your stomach.

“Of course I know how it happened.” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“No,” you shook your head adjusting yourself, “I mean do you know when this happened?” You reiterated.

“No. I didn’t want to pry.” He admitted.

“It was the night Hazel stayed over.” You explained, and guilt flushed over his face.

“[Y/N], I told you I was sorry about that. This is your apartment now too. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or feel like you couldn’t come home.” He started to apologize, making you laugh.

“No, Jay. I didn’t want to come home because I was jealous.” You said waiting for it to click.

“Jealous of what?” He looked even more confused making you frustrated.

“Oh my god Jay. Of you and her! Of you with her!” You huffed throwing your hands in the air. Taking a deep breath you shook your head, “I just didn’t want to come back and see her here, or god forbid hear her. When all I wanted was to be the one in your room.” You admitted getting nauseous at the thought of them together.

“I don’t know what to say.” He sighed after a few minutes of grappling within his own head.

“Oh god. I’m sorry I should’ve never said anything.” Your embarrassment took over, feeling your face turn red you moved to stand up and hurry out of the room, but he pulled you back down beside him, closer this time.

“No. Don’t be. It’s just...I wish it was as easy as that. Believe me I do..” He said, breath noticeably quickening at the thought.

“It can be.” You replied after a couple seconds of intense silence.

“[Y/N], we work together, we’re partners, you’re having someone else’s baby. There’s a lot of factors.” He explained, but you could tell he was trying to convince himself.

“Do you want this as bad as I do?” You asked gently, resting your hand on his, but he stayed quiet. “Just for one night. Can’t we just give into ourselves for one night?” You bargained your face inching closer with each thought, “if you don’t want this I promise I’ll go to bed now and we can never speak of this again.” You stopped a few inches from his face refusing to make the move. The decision was in his hands now. His eyes searched your face, breathing heavy, and you watched the moment his resolve gave away, throwing caution to the wind and groaning a quiet,

“[Y/N].” Before he closed the distance his lips meeting yours in an urgency you had never felt before.

You were woken up by a sharp pain in your stomach. Turning to roll on your back you collided with warm skin, belonging to someone who grunted pulling you closer with the arm wrapped around your waist. Remembering who it was you felt a small smile appear on your lips, but it was stolen away by another pain radiating from your abdomen. Wincing you gently lifted Jay’s arm attempting to slide out from under it, brain registering the wetness you felt between your legs. Jesus, you liked him and all, but you figured you could control yourself a little instead of waking up completely ready to go again. Shaking your head you slipped off the bed, the liquid between your legs growing, becoming a little too prominent with the accompanied pains. “Jay.” you croaked out voice hoarse, terror immediately coming to surface as the red came into view. He didn’t stir. “Jay!” You tried again bracing yourself against the bed as a dizziness started to swirl in your mind. At your insistence he grunted eyes slowly opening.

“[Y/N]?” He asked blinking and attempting to reach for where you lay minutes prior.

“Jay, somethings wrong.” You began to cry, panic obvious in your voice by the quivering, but trying not to scare him. You watched as his awareness finally clicked seconds later, sitting straight up in bed looking from the blood stained sheet to you. Another cramp hitting, this time making you fall to your knees just as Jay reached you, pulling you back up in his arms. Somehow throwing a shirt on in the process.

“Alright come on I got you. It’s alright baby. You’re okay.” He hurriedly helped you put shorts on as you had only been sporting his shirt from the night before. Cradling you in his arms, running down to his truck, and burning tire towards the hospital, lights and sirens echoing in the background while he weaved through traffic, pulling up to the doors of Chicago Med not too long after. Your head was shoved in his chest breathing through the pain. You felt lightheaded barely aware of all that was happening as you heard Jay yelling for a nurse before sitting you down in a wheelchair.

“I’m assuming you’re the father? Otherwise we can’t permit you-“ The nurse began to ask, even more panic taking over at the thought of being alone before you heard Jay answer with a simple,

“Yes.” After a few tests were done your suspicions were confirmed. You had lost the baby, and you didn’t know how to feel. Jay climbed into bed beside you pulling you into his chest letting the sobs soak his shirt while he rubbed you back, “I’m so sorry. I’m right here though, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here. It’s all going to be okay.” He promised kissing your head, and if it wasn’t for the man holding you, you weren’t sure if you ever would’ve believed that.

All Tag List:

@corebore123 @scarletsoldierrr @hehurst23 @beautiful-bunny89 @ingie @halsteadsway @malrunaway @smclelli @inlovewith3

Jay Taglist:

@justadreamxx @life-treatments @weepingfestivalmentality @toomuchtv95 @queen-of-arda

[sophlubbwriting]

Shifting to your arms - 03

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: This is a slice-of-life series where you, the reader successfully shifted realities with the goal to spend time with Loki. Nothing too intense.

A/N: I didn’t have that much time to write this week, but I finally finished editing it (an hour to late, hope you don’t mind).

Feel free to shoot me a request and I'll see what I can do!

Taglist: @gingerspicetalks​ @adoreyou976​

Feedback is always appreciated!

Chapter Summary: A nightly meeting with the god of mischief and an intense discussion after a mission briefing where you finally come clean.

Chapter warnings: slight angst, spiders, Loki being Loki

Word count: 1871

One might think your muscles would get used to the way they are strained by the training with Loki, but your muscles decided to be sore and stay sore. Great way to be woken up.

The sun was nowhere to be seen yet, the dim light entering the window however was alluding to its already anticipated arrival.

Turning around in your bed again, your back felt like it was stabbed – which has woken you up and was almost, what had happened yesterday. The god of mischief figured it would be a great idea to show you, how to defend against an attacker who uses knifes and, of course, he never even considered using dummy-knives.

“I would never do so much as to wound you fatally, mortal.” he had assured you and oddly enough, you had believed him. You had to. Everything the god of lies told you sounded true, albeit might be caused by his velvety voice. Somehow, he had been picking up on the effects it had on you. Ever the observer.

As you struggled to stand up, you let out a heavy groan. For as much as you wanted to just sleep it off, you deemed sleeping as impossible. Not with muscles this stiff and not with how much you usually moved while asleep.

With every step you took your thighs stiffened. Stretching might seem like a good idea, but you already knew it would hurt like hell and quite frankly, you didn't have the energy to try it. You've heard somewhere, magnesium would help with sore muscles and as for now, you were more than eager to test your hypothesis.

Usually stuff like that is kept in the kitchen, right?

The oversized T-shirt you wore instead of a regular pyjama reached just above your knees, concealing not only your body shape but being unbelievably comfortable too. Who in their right mind would be awake in these ungodly early morning hours anyway? Changing clothes now was no use.

While the magnesium tablet was dissolving in a glass of water, you saw a box of cocoa powder just waiting on the top shelf above the stove. It towered there, tauntingly, staring down at you because it knew you weren't able to grab it.

A hot cocoa mix. That's what you needed  right now.

Determined, you took a step back and looked at the situation in front of you. There was one rather obvious solution to this:

Climbing.

Your legs were protesting, but you didn't care. You needed that cocoa. Maybe that's the tiredness speaking, but you couldn't live another moment without it. Hot chocolate.

You checked twice that the stove was both turned off and cold, so you wouldn't accidentally burn yourself if you happened to step on it and proceeded to swing a leg on the sideboard. Your shoulders were burning, but you didn't stop as you slowly pushed yourself up. You couldn't let the box win.

Once you managed to balance yourself out and fully straightened up, your eyes were barely below the surface, the box was prominently placed on, but that wasn't an issue. You, unlike the box, had hands, which you would put to use now. Reaching out, you snatched the box and inspected it. After reading all the nifty details from the back of the box, you wondered what the artwork on the front would look like, but you weren't able to look at it.

There was a huge spider, clinging to this side of the box.

Frightened you threw the box away from you and stepped backwards, only to lose your footing on the sideboard. Bracing for impact, you closed your eyes.

But nothing happened.

Confused you slowly opened your eyes back up. There he was, your deus ex machina. His face being mere inches away from your face, the god had hold you in a close embrace to stop you from falling. This in and of itself made it hard enough to keep your composure, but the following conversation only heightened the stakes.

There it was again. That damned voice.

“Oh my, are you falling for me?”

Together with his smirk, this was a deadly combo which short-circuited your brain.

Your thoughts raced faster than you could control them. I have been ever since I first saw you. You wanted to let him know, how you felt.

But you couldn't.

Instead, you opted for a cheeky grin and for the line “you wish”, although in all reality, you were the one wishing. This was torture, being this close to someone you wanted to be even closer with but not being able to be.

What if he would reject you? What if he wouldn't feel comfortable with you being around him any more? What if...

He carefully set you back down on the floor, almost as if he was afraid to break you if he were to drop you too harshly. You were still gazing into each others eyes, lost in the moment and although the spider should have scared you wide awake, this magical moment felt like a dream.

Being lost in his eyes, you stopped taking in anything else but Loki. You didn't notice how soft raindrops were clashing against the windows, you didn't notice how the sun was rising or how bright it had become.

And you most definitely did not notice, how the scary spider was dissolving into green mist.

------------------------

After Tony had laid out your mission, you didn't quite know how to react. You were being sent on a real mission, together with the god of mischief. Just the two of you, only 48 hours left to prepare and your thoughts were racing.

Meanwhile, Loki looked unfazed by the mission, although he shot you a quick look. He knew you were capable of defending yourself and others, but attacking someone else was something different. Whenever you had tried to surprise him with an attack during your training, he had told you how you weren't ready just yet.

You had to think about possible excuses, not to go on this mission. Tell them the truth? You weren't sure how they would handle it. Would they call you an imposter? Imprison you? Besides, a literal god would be fighting right next to you. Everything would be okay.

“You seem rather nervous, my dear. Is everything alright?” The god of chaos averted your attention back to the conversation.

He spoke with the same nonchalant tone he used if someone different than you was within earshot, but if you weren't mistaken, there was a hint of concern hidden behind it this time. Before you could calm him down, the rich kid chimed in.

“Opposed to you, Reindeer Games, our sweet agent here has been on multiple missions similar to this already. It should be smooth sailing, even if you decide to turn on us and abandon both the mission and your partner.”

Oh no.

You saw over to Loki whose smirk was filled with amusement as he was declaring to Tony how he would never betray anyone in his life. He would soon realise something didn't add up. How could you have been on multiple infiltration missions without being able to fight?

At least you didn't have to make an effort and control your thoughts around him any more. Whenever there had been a small thought you weren't able to contain, he didn't seem to notice it, so why try to keep up a facade if no one would even realise it was there?

You left the room while Tony was still trying to threaten Loki out of betraying anyone. Your feet lead you to the gym where you planned on meeting the god of mischief once got bored of talking with Tony and you anticipated it to take five minutes, tops.

After spending some time beating up a punching bag, you heard someone walk in. You didn't have to turn around to know it was him.

“Explain yourself” the voice demanded harshly. He didn't even try to sugar-coat his words, he was disappointed. Probably hurt.

But you couldn't confront him with the truth, could you? You weren't ready, so you feigned innocence.

“What do you mean?”

It was no use. As you turned around and saw him standing there, visibly sad. He knew, although not everything. He knew you lied to him and that was enough to break both his and your hearts.

Loki didn't deserve this.

“You know exactly what I mean.” he looked like he barely kept himself from crying, but his voice was now steady and... cold? Now your heart felt like it was being shattered. “How have you done multiple missions, some of which were solo, despite being barely able to fight? What is the truth, mortal?”

Gone were the pleasantries you were used to, gone were the words 'darling' and 'my dear'.  Now you were just called 'mortal', one of many, easily exchangeable to him. You never thought words this small could hurt this bad.

“You wouldn't believe me.”

That was all you could mutter now, the only thought consuming your mind. He wouldn't believe me. The god of lies however insisted he would believe you, provided you told him the truth. This was your last chance to come clear and you both knew that.

“I-” you started insecurely, looking left and right in hopes of finding the right words to use somewhere in the room.

“I am not...”

Your eyes were slowly filling up with tears. This was harder than expected.

“I'm not... from here.”

In a poor attempt to hide your tears you looked down at the floor, but you were sure he saw them since one or two drops managed to fall from your eyes onto the floor.

“Neither do I”

This simple response made you chuckle, what in turn calmed your nerves. You looked up again and your eyes met his. Maybe he would understand.

“I mean... I am not from this reality.”

Silence. Loki didn't ask any questions, but you were sure he had plenty. Who wouldn't?

Fidgeting around with the seams of your shirt, you decided to elaborate a little bit more. “It is... kind of a long story which I feel like I couldn't explain properly, but I managed to shift realities so I can be here.” A heavy weight was dropped from your shoulders as you proceeded to tell him about how life was in your reality and, most importantly, how the Avengers are non-existent.

The last part caught Loki's attention and he thought for a few seconds about it. “So, am I just a mere work of fiction, too?”

You hesitated with your answer and he noticed. Of course he did.

“In... in my reality, yes, but in this reality you are very real.” You gave him an encouraging smile and he nodded understandingly.

“I think therefore I am. So, my dear, why did you... shift realities?”

His prying eyes saw right through you, it was almost as if he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear you admit it.

“I did it so I could see you, Loki.”

[kannra21]

Not Weak

Geten found herself in a tricky situation and she doesn't want Re-Destro to find out. How can a certain fire-user help her by making things even more complicated?

characters: dabi (todoroki touya) x f!geten

word count: 3.2k

warnings: angst, past memories, scars, abuse mention, foul language, comfort, making out

notes: I'd like to thank @seenalready13 for proofreading this work since I can be v clumsy with grammar haha. I'm v grateful for the help! And also, the picture above belongs to 九わん (@91qwn), here's the link to the artwork. Please support their work!

✂-------------------------------------------------------

Geten, as the keystone of the entire army, had the task of leading her group and ensuring that anyone within their ranks followed her instructions. The loyalty of their people was unquestionable as everyone adhered to Destro's teachings, and she was immensely proud of her Cryokinesis. 

The ice-user was grateful to their grand commander for granting her this amazing opportunity of making up for all the great things that he's done for her. She wore an honorable title, and her reputation has risen a lot since the hooning of her meta ability for years. However, she did experience all sorts of things their organization had to offer from the moment Re-Destro promoted her to his right-hand woman, believing that she'd be strong enough to take on the responsibility and he was right. It wasn't like she was bothered too much, especially since dealing with a couple of thugs on her own was no big deal for her. Still, this didn't mean that after performing their duties the soldiers couldn't relax and show their true colors.

This was the case with one guy in particular, who was casually hitting on her and calling her pet names which were utterly gross and humiliating. She had the utmost need to wipe the fucker out of the face of the Earth, but she also knew damn well that Re-Destro would disapprove of such actions considering that the army must avoid inner conflicts at all costs. Of course, she wanted to take matters into her own hands, to prove to the commander that she was deserving of her title, but the jerk simply wouldn't take her seriously as she wanted to be through with whatever problem she had without necessarily dragging Re-Destro into it. That's why she decided to take the easier route and use someone to her own advantage.

"What's in there for me?" Dabi asked, uninterested as he fixed the staples on his burnt skin.

It's true that they were partnered up to share their leading spot at the Vanguard Action Guerilla Warfare Regiment: Violet, but this didn't mean that they had to play nice with each other. Especially after Geten's offensive speech of power and people's place in this world. 

She clenched her fists in her pockets; of course, she should've known that he'd ask for something in return. "I don't have much to offer,” she said through greeted teeth. 

She looked almost pitiful if it weren't for her leading position; she felt stupid to even ask for help when she could've just ended the whole mess with one swift motion of her ice, and bam, the fool's dead. Well, if things could be that easy.

"I... I'M THE TOP LIEUTENANT AND THEREFORE I DEMAND OBEDIENCE! LIKE I NEED TO CONFIDE IN YOU, BURNT CHICKEN NUGGET SCUM!"

"THE FUCK-" Dabi stood up, fire flaring up in his hand and ready to strike as he saw Geten backing off with ice covering her right arm, bracing herself for the upcoming attack.

And then he saw it, at this very moment, the look of hesitation and unease covering her blue eyes. She... didn't want to fight? Was she defending herself? It reminded Dabi of something else from his past, or rather someone, defending themselves from his flames, wearing the exact same expression on their face while protecting his youngest brother. The dripping water from her ice washed over his memories as he obtained one after another in a frantic blur. Nostalgia soon followed the guilt, and it tore him apart, except he didn't want to show it, but Geten already noticed his anger faltering which was her cue to relax.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered under his breath, barely for her to hear. 

"What?" as the question rolled out of her mouth, she internally lost herself in delirium "BLUEFLAME CRISPY MCBACON JUST APOLOGIZED WTFWTFWTFWTFWTWTF-"

"Geten?"

"YES?" she snapped, too loud for what she initially intended. 

"I'll help you, and there's actually something you can do for me in return."

She crossed her arms and smirked confidently at him from her previous ego boost, much to his frowning expression. 

"Whatcha suggestin'?"

"I'll scare the fucker off, and you'll then... cool down my skin from using my flames. Deal?"

Geten looked at him for a moment to determine if he was joking about the offer but from the looks of it and his deep husky voice that she got used to oh so many times during the past week of working with him, she concluded that he was, indeed, not messing around. Dabi expected her to laugh it off or straight up refuse whatever suggestion he had on mind, but from the manner she weighed her choices in her head and the way she looked at him, with those bright, beautiful eyes and long lashes fixated to his own... Wait, when did they get this close?

The two backed off and cleared their throats in embarrassment. They were freaking staring at each other, and for fucking what?

"I... It's a deal then."

"Good."

… 

"Just... don't hurt yourself too much while dealing with the idiot."

Dabi turned his head so fast his neck hurt. 

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING SO WEIRD?!"

"SHUT UP AND MOVE YOUR FUCKING ASS!"

As they reached the place where their target was supposed to be, the man soon showed up by Geten's side and started pestering her with all kinds of bull he made her deal with on a daily basis. And just as she felt sick enough, Dabi put his hot hand on the guy's shoulder, making his skin sting in the first-degree burns. The guy then backed off and glared at the fire-user with utmost disdain.

"THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?"

"Listen up freak", Dabi took Geten for the waist and gently pulled her towards himself, her body leaning on his own and fitting perfectly under his larger frame, "I saw what you did there. You’d better stop messing with my girlfriend, or else you'll burn to ashes."

Geten internally screamed and pinched him on the side for being a fucking idiot. "HIS GIRLFRIEND!? THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO PLAY OUT LIKE THAT!"

"You sound too confident, guess I should give you a nice beating to teach you a lesson."

He soon regretted his decision because Dabi was entirely down to realize his threat, and after a couple of burns, the moron retreated while he still could and left Geten alone.

And while she hated that they needed to make a scene in front of the other soldiers who were whispering to each other and exchanged who knows what kinds of things, she couldn't leave Dabi alone like this so she put his hand over her shoulder and helped him reach a more secluded area. They entered his room because he said that he kept the first aid kit in a drawer. It was also the first time that Geten came by but it didn't look at all exciting either; the room had a very plain interior, darkened space with the shutters down, piles of dirty clothes creased to the side probably waiting to be washed, the bed left unmade since this morning, a bunch of disinfectants sitting on the nightstand and some used medical gaze forgotten to be thrown away. Geten almost felt sorry for him. It's not like she was doing any better but at least she knew how to take care of herself.

She seated him carefully on the bed, and he started digging through drawers until he found what he needed. When he was all set, he began to take his jacket and shirt off but then Geten panicked and lowered his shirt. 

Dabi's confusion mixed with annoyance was now directed towards the ice gremlin's pretty face. "Aren't you going to cool me down?"

"I THOUGHT YOU ONLY MEANT HANDS AND THINGS LIKE THAT! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF!?" she shouted with blushing cheeks covering her face with her hands.

Dabi soon understood what she meant and closed his eyes, wearing a disheartened smile. 

"It's not like you'll see much. Just a bunch of patched-up skin and bruises. It's not even that hot."

"THAT'S NOT WHAT-,” but then she noticed that his expression never actually faltered, he looked to the front and waited patiently for her next move, sadness surrounding his wounded features. It's not like it was his first time reconciling with the facts, but still, being this burnt and knowing that it wasn't entirely his fault, but his father was also to blame, which made him remember the days when he wasn't in such a fucked up condition as he was now. It made him feel a bit of regret too. But he needed to acknowledge that the path he took was the one with no return, and he needed to accomplish his mission. Endeavor needed to be brought down at all costs; maybe then he'd gain a sense of worth and show him, prove to him, that he was deserving of more incredible things. The ice-user sighed in defeat and gave up on her embarrassment, "just show me what you got.”

Dabi was brought out of his train of thought, and he took off his shirt. It turns out that he was right, some of his scarred skin was sizzling slightly, and his wounds looked terrible because they were situated further on the back where he couldn't reach. She took the disinfectant from the nightstand and tapped it lightly on the freshly made scars. He made a slight grimace, but didn't flinch, didn't wince, like he was afraid of showing his weaknesses by putting on a tough act. It'll all pay off, he assured himself, once he gets rid of his dad. 

When she finished, he allowed Geten to scoot closer to make her do her thing. Her icy hands on his skin felt so good that suddenly he forgot about all of his problems. He turned his face to the side so she wouldn't notice, but the goosebumps on his skin told her otherwise. 

She made a sly smile and cocked her head to look at him from the corner. 

"What's up, tough guy? Can't hide the way I make you feel good?"

He laughed under his breath. He liked when she was this flirty. It made the situation less awkward. But he also felt uncomfortable with how he needed to depend on someone, just like her, when she asked for his help. Were they that similar?

"I need to ask you something,” Dabi asked quietly like he was probing the waters. 

"Yea?"

"Do you still think that I'm weak?" 

The silence filled the room, and he had the need to explain himself. 

"You said that there's no worth living if the user doesn't possess a strong meta ability. Hooning your power was the only thing worth your time as you didn't wish for anything else. You always thought that our Quirks defined us, that they're things we identify with for life. Now that you've taken a closer look at my condition, tell me, what do you think?"

Geten suddenly grew interested in the laminate floor under their feet as she couldn't look anywhere else, her eyes deep in thought.

"That was very mean of me, and I'm sorry, especially since you risked your own health for my reputation."

"... by calling you, my girlfriend?"

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT IT DIDN'T MAKE ANY ACTUAL SENSE!?, her teeth grew sharp, and her eyes furrowed like some rabid cartoon character. 

"It did, actually. Because of my threat, the fool is now afraid of looking at your general direction, knowing that I'd kick his ass whenever he says something stupid again."

Unbothered, he drank his painkillers from the glass of water. 

"... Wait. You'd really repeat all of this... for me?"

Just as he drank, so did he spit, coughing and wiping his chin with his forearm.

"Of course I would, but don't get the wrong idea."

""WRONG IDEA"? YOU LITERALLY CALLED ME YOUR GIRLFRIEND IN FRONT OF EVERYONE!"

"IT WAS JUST TO CONFUSE THE FUCKER!"

"THEN WHY WOULD YOU REPEAT IT?"

"IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU REALLY!"

"THEN WHY'S IT!?"

"I JUST NEED YOU FOR YOUR STUPID ICE FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

The room fell in complete silence once again, and the tension became so thick one could almost cut it with a knife.

Her expression grew cold, and her eyes bore nothing but pure disgust. "So that's what this was all about."

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING SO SURPRISED NOW? IT WAS OUR DEAL, REMEMBER?"

She sat up from her seat and went straight to the door, readying herself to leave.

"Wait."

Just as she was about to step out, she turned around, his tone of voice catching her off guard only to see him sitting miserably on his bed, head hanging and elbows leaning on his knees, grieving.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

Geten stood at the doorway for a minute and then slowly entered again, closing the door behind her. Dabi continued.

"I say things that I don't mean and push the people I care about away."

The white-hair watched his back in silence until she decided to speak up again "... So you actually meant it... the other way?"

"I'm such a sick fuck."

She sensed the crack in his voice and came closer, undoing his hands only to see blood trailing down his face. 

"Whoa, what's going on with your scars?" she tried to wipe it off only to smear it across his cheeks, and Dabi smiled a little.

"Aren't you disgusted by it? Now all of your fingers are red."

She didn't mind his words but created an ice cube to wash it with the water.

"I should call Sceptic. He’s much better at this medical shit than I am."

"No one can help me with it. My tear ducts are all burnt out, and I can't really tear up much."

"Wait, you're crying?"

Dabi refused to say anything as she tried to wipe the rest of the blood off, pressing gentle circles on his now iced skin.

"Blueflame…"

"Hah, actually, you're right. Maybe I really am as weak as you told me back then. I literally am falling apart. How pitiful."

Without a second thought, she slapped him across the face, and he took his stinging cheek in his hand.

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT!"

"Thanks...."

"I'm sorry. Look, you're everything but weak, so don't you dare call yourself that. You endured so much pain, your skin is the proof of the things you've gone through in life, and you freaking survived. No one would be able to do this but you. You're not weak, Blueflame, far from it."

"You think so?"

"Of course I do! If it weren't for your help today, I would have talked to Re-Destro, and he'd think that I was too weak for my leadership role. I never actually thanked you for this, thank you."

"You're not weak either, doll. I'm pretty sure that you've beat my ass the week before."

She just smiled at him, and then they looked at each other the same way they did when they made their offer, except they didn't back off this time. They leaned into the kiss that was slow at first, but then they applied more pressure, and it grew more passionate. It was also their first time, so they couldn't really make fun of each other's clumsiness. Whenever their teeth collided, they laughed a little but continued until it felt right. She melted against him, her lips working in tandem with his and his hand slid up her outer thigh as he leaned forward to deepen it. She grasped his lower lip with her teeth before pulling away for some air, and he groaned.

"God, this felt good..." his chest heaved, his words a gravelly whisper.

She stood up and widened her stance, legs bracketing his own as she reached out to grab the back of his neck. She leaned over, forehead resting against his.

"You're not so bad yourself, gorgeous-eyes."

"I differ, yours are much more gorgeous."

"Really? Kinda sappy coming from your side." she grinned, but this didn't discourage him in the slightest.

"I could get lost in them, I mean it."

He caught her face in his palms, drawing her in deeper as his tongue slipped between their lips and slid against hers. His Quirk activated, his kiss is fierce and sweet all at once, and her head spins as his hands slid up her thighs, warming her up. Her mouth became much cooler now, and it sent shivers down his spine. She planted her icy hands on his shoulders and pushed them both backward, landing on the comfort of his bedsheets.

He drew circles over her back and waist, taking in her beautiful features as her head hovered over his own, hair tickling the skin on his face. She gave him a little peck that made him smile, and she cupped his face, thumbs stroking the side of his cheeks.

"So we're official now?" she didn't know why she asked. It was kind of obvious now, but she wanted to hear it coming from his lips.

His expression became serious again as he looked to the side concerningly. He really didn't want to spoil whatever they had going on with his fucked up story about his family, hero society, his mission that could possibly cost him his life for the sake of achieving greater good. Now the last thing he needed was to fall in love with someone and die when he finally found his reason. Life was such a bitch sometimes.

"I'm currently dealing with a very unfortunate situation. I'm afraid that you'd get affected, and I don't want to endanger you by it."

She tilted her head questionably, "And I thought that we'd overcome everything as long as we're fighting together."

He looked at her worryingly, but his words bore a tad bit of curiosity in them, "You want to fight by my side?"

"Of course, you have my full support." she grinned widely, and he smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. It was amazing how much optimism, or rather confidence, could be stored in one single ice gremlin. But he loved her more than everything.

"Very well then." he turned them over and planted a kiss on her forehead before getting on his feet and pulling her up towards himself. "Boss told me about some business we need to take care of in the neighborhood. Cocktail hours?"

"FUCK WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY EARLIER!?"

"Relax, we'll arrive on time." he took his shirt and jacket and put them on.

As they walked towards their location, Dabi took her hand in his while some of the soldiers watched them in confusion, remembering when the two fought against each other.

He couldn't care less. She was the first person who ever supported him, so if his days were outnumbered, then he'd as well spend them with the only person worth his time.

[bibbykins]

At-Fault Acid Rain

Who is the clown that decided to write fight drabbles for no reason? Me? Oh, damn.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it and feel free to keep sending me questions about the soft yandere boys I love them!

Word count: 2.1k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jin x Reader (Scopophilic Affection drabble)

Summary: You and Jin did not fight often, you barely disagreed on anything, except for one big thing: your family. After a tense dinner with your family, and the shedding of your tears, Jin understands he needs to change his approach.

Alternatively: all the soft yandere boys go to mush during a fight the moment their darling starts to cry

The door was nearly ripped off its hinges as Jin opened it, passively aggressively, but still chivalrous, for you to give him the side eye as you stepped through the threshold of your shared apartment, "I'm sleeping on the fucking couch."  You seethed as you kicked off the pumps you wore.

"No, baby, let me." Sarcasm dripped from his tone as he followed suit while you fiddled with the zipper on your dress, "I obviously don't do enough for you, so I'll sleep on the couch." His tone was bitter to say the least.

You scoffed as your arms reached to get the damn dress off. You just wanted to shed this night off of your body. Your lovely lover thought it would be super wise to make underhanded verbal jabs at each and every member of your family until the entire dinner was eaten in silence before everyone even got their main course. 

Needless to say, you were mortified. Regardless of how shitty your family has been to you, you did still love them. You did still see them as family, even if they just saw you as a disappointment, now a bitchy gold-digging disappointment. You and Jin had bickered the whole way home about what was and wasn't called for as well as his motives behind his very thinly veiled insults to your family. Was he standing up for you or did he genuinely look down on your family? 

And by extension, did he look down on you?

You felt him pull the zipper down as your arms returned to your side, "How can you be so goddamn stubborn sometimes?" He muttered under his breath as he leaned down to try and kiss your neck, obviously hoping for makeup sex before a fight fully breaks out. You and Jin had been pretty good about not fighting, but when it came to the topic of your family, it was difficult, to say the least.

Jin despised your family very, very strongly. He was crazy about you, and crazy in general, so he hated anyone who made you feel like anything less than the goddess you are to him. You, on the other hand, still maintain a wry smile to your family's backhanded compliments. This drove him to the brink of insanity, resulting in his much harsher quips back to your cousins, your aunts, your uncles, and especially your parents. 

Overcome with love and an unwillingness to fight in risk of relenting, Jin always tried to have sex and deal with it then. 

Keyword: tried. You marched towards the room before his mouth could make contact and extinguish the angry fire in your body, "I would love it if you didn't touch me right now." You snapped as you put on a large t-shirt, deliberately choosing one you already owned instead of one of Jin's.

Taking notice of this, Jin found his libido drop and his irritation spike. How could you not understand he was on your side?! "I would love it if you could stop being mad at me for being honest during dinner about your shitty family!" You flinched at his volume when he crossed the threshold of the bedroom while you took off your jewelry.

You laughed humorously, "Honest or not, they don't need more fucking reasons to despise me anymore!" You shot back, "The way they looked at me tonight… I couldn't even eat!" You were beyond irritated that Jin couldn't see why you were angry, "The last time they looked at me like that was when I told them I wanted to major in Theatre!"

"Well, I ate just fine and the food was delicious." Jin clipped back as you slammed the earings on the nightstand

"Unbelievable." You murmured as you grabbed a pillow and brushed past the broad-shouldered man in the doorway.

Jin scoffed as he followed you, "I don't see why you still give a damn about what they think of you!" You pursed your lips and shook your head, "You're not a kid anymore, they're opinion shouldn't matter!" He tried to reason with you.

"Of course you don't get it." Your voice dropped lower, usually a signal to Jin to reel it in, but he was far too stubborn and confident he would win this fight.

"What does that mean?!" He challenged with all of his bravado as you patted the pillow against the armrest of the couch.

You whipped your head around to scrutinize his form, still suit clad with only the tie loosened, "You have no idea what it's like to be brought up with expectations so high and miss the mark so terribly, not only do you get shit on all the damn time, you aren't even given the decency of a chance to redeem yourself!" You were hurt, and Jin began to regret his big mouth, "Your parents love you and respect you and trust your judgement." Jin's jaw clenched, "My family loves me, yeah, but because it is expected of them, and they meet their fucking expectations unlike their creative mistake from a family of accountants!" You could hardly keep track of your words, "They love me but they don't respect me, not even enough to expect anything from me anymore!"

Jin knew he should've stopped but he couldn't stand the way you looked at him, and he wanted to be right, "I earned my parents respect!" He retorted, "You…!" He trailed off, having to reevaluate the very shitty and incorrect thing he was going to say, hoping you would just drop it.

When he saw the pain flash through your widened eyes, he wanted to crumble, "I…?" You waited expectantly, "What? I didn't earn their respect?" Your voice was eerily soft and Jin knew what it meant. You were going to cry. Your tears stung him like acid, dissolving his fight within seconds. You seldom fully cried, so when you did Jin saw red at the cause, but when the cause was him, which had only happened once before this, he spent weeks apologizing. You were his everything, the last thing he ever wants is to make you feel like anything less. Jim never won any of your arguments, though he likes to think he has once, but the moment you cry the idea of winning or loosing becomes insignificant.

Jin's eyes softened as he took a very tentative step towards you, "No, baby, I didn't mean-"

You held your hand up, effectively silencing him, "No, no, you're right, what have I done to earn their respect?" You shrugged and your voice shook as Jin stepped closer to you, "I have been nothing but respectful to them even while they spit on every accomplishment I've had, and when I finally bring home a boy, he makes them feel as small as they have made me feel and…" You inhaled shakily, as Jin braced himself, "And if that's what you think of them… what on Earth do you think of me?" Your voice cracked as the dam in your tear ducts shattered and you broke down into tears and Jin's stubborn resolve dissolved with it.

He engulfed you in a hug, despite your initial fight to put as much distance as possible between you both. With his strength your efforts were fruitless physically, but affected him emotionally as he held you firmly against him until you gave up. You cried into his chest, undoubtedly getting mascara all over his very expensive dress shirt as he held you close, stroking your hair, "I think that of them because they are cowards." His tone was softer, "I think that you, on the other hand, are the most courageous and passionate person I know." 

"You're just saying that because I'm crying." You hiccuped as you gripped his shirt.

He laughed shortly, "I'll admit that I hate to see you cry, Leopard." You relaxed a bit against the nickname, "But I mean it." He kissed the top of your head, "I just get so fucking angry when I see those bastards looking down on you, like they all wanted to do fucking math for a living, like they weren't just too cowardly to follow their own fucking dream, so they channel all their self hatred onto my beautiful fianceè, who doesn't need a boy to make her look better when compared to a family full of idiots." He swayed you both back and forth as you caught your breath, "I think the world of you, fuck, you are my world." You sniffled, relaxed against his form as he swayed, "I'm sorry I was an asshole and most importantly," He cupped your face to look at you, "I'm sorry I made you think for a second that I think of you as anything less than the person I admire the most." Your eyes softened as he wiped the stray tears from your cheeks with his thumbs.

"Ugh, Jin," You groaned into his chest, "Why are you so good with words?" You sighed, leaning into his touch, "I'm sorry I freaked out, I really don't give too much of a shit what you say to them, but I'm just so used to them being the standard for perfection and so I just thought that if you think they suck, then I really must be nothing more than a pretty face to you." You shifted your gaze to the floor, uncomfortable spilling your insecurities after a fight.

"Are you kidding?!" Jin's tone demanded your attention, "I think you're a goddamn magician with the shit you can do for sets and for screen plays, your mind is fantastic and your personality lights up my life!" 

"Jin-"

"I love you so much, you are beautiful, yeah, but you're also intelligent, strong, hardworking, clever, fearless-" Jin's gushing was cut short by your lips smashing onto his in a kiss he quickly melted into. His hands went to your waist as he pulled you flush against him and massaged your mouth with his own.

You both pulled away to catch your breaths, "I love you too, you obnoxious, crazy, and stubborn man." You huffed against his mouth, "Thank you for standing up for me, babe, but just wait till we finish eating next time, hm?" 

Jin nodded before pressing a quick kiss to your lips, "Now that's how you compromise." He grinned, "To make up for it, I'll make you your favorite, since my poor little Leopard didn't eat." You smiled before stealing another kiss, "Also I feel terrible for making you cry, so I'll get started." He chuckled lightly.

Before he could pull from your embrace, you pulled him in for another kiss as you stood on your tippy toes, "Darling?" You nuzzled your nose onto his as he hummed in question, his knees weakening, as you gripped his collar to bring him down and whisper in his ear, "If you really want to make my family sweat, tell the more about what you do for a living Mr. Board Member and Computer Science man." You mused playfully before placing a kiss to his ear as he straightened and met your eyes. The light had returned to them along with the smile you gave him, "Or whatever your impressive title is." You giggled, making him smile wide as he took in your features.

"Stop distracting me, beautiful." Jin chided before giving you a quick kiss and heading towards the kitchen, "You can seduce me after you eat the apology meal!" He called from the kitchen making your roll your eyes as you sat on the couch, "Gosh, my fiancè keeps trying to have makeup sex with me!" He whined sarcastically, making you smile.

You scoffed mockingly, "Oh really? Do you want me to tell her to stop?" You joked as you heard a small clatter of pans.

"NO!" Jin called as he collected himself, making you laugh, "I can handle it just fine, I'm a strong man!" He called out, not knowing you had snuck into the kitchen.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, chest pressed against his back as he stirred the pot in front of him, "I love you, dummy." You mumbled against him.

Jin paused his movements for a moment before placing on hand over yours. He closed his eyes for a moment, blissfully sighing before his face relaxed into an equally blissful smile, "I love you most, Leopard." He squeezed your hand as you nuzzled into him. Jin could put aside his pride for you and you alone, he would move mountains for you. However, he had all intentions to put your family in their place, and to make sure they understood their place was beneath you. You, his goddess, his universe, his lovely Leopard.

[bitchfitch]

Death crept through the lavish halls of a rich man's home. Old cracked paint flaked beside sun faded tapestries and over well worn wood floors. The raged leather soles of of his boots softly thumping along with the creaking of old wood that accompanied his every step. He found the room easily, following the sound of a fading cough and short not quite gasping breaths that failed to draw enough air. 

He ducked through the door and the dying man greeted him with age hazed eyes and a broad grin.

"Copper!" his exclamation carried joy even if his lungs couldn't support more than a creaking whisper, "Bastard, it's so good to see you again," he stopped to catch his breath, his eyes closing as he did so,

"And you as well," Copper returned the smile as he sat in the chair beside the bed, "But to be honest I'm a touch surprised, both that you can see anything through those cataracts, and that you would... Appreciate my presence," 

The rich man chuckled, "Not many people have hair that color, even fewer are as tall as you. I may not be able to see much, but I can still see that,"

"I suppose you're right," Copper huffs with a hand going to his dark red mess of a mane "Still, you must remember the terms of our deal and what my presence means for you now?"

"I do," he nods, "I'm going to die tonight, going to see Min again," 

"Min?"

"My wife," he smiles as he speaks of her even as his words become more labored, "That quill you gave me, I wrote a letter to the girl I had fallen in love with when we were young. I didn't know she couldn't read, so she had to get someone else to read it to her, but when she'd heard what I wrote she came all the way into the valley to slap me and call me an idiot," he laughs, "Told me we should've eloped when we were both still fresh, before she'd found another man to call her own,

I'd not even thought that she'd have gone on like that. It made sense, she could have, and did, do so much better than me. But luck of lucks saw that husband of hers dead not long after. I felt bad for being so happy, but I couldn't stop smiling when she and I married,

That quill- You, gave me the happiest life I could have imagined. I'm glad to pay my end of the deal now, because it means I get to see her again,"

"It's a rare treat to find someone with no regrets, thank you for your story," Copper smiles softly, genuine and warm,

"Oh, I've got regrets," the rich man say "Many, but I don't care to dwell on them, not now... or... Well, one, there's one,"

"Hmm?"

"Min and I, we had a fight right before... She was so mad at me last time I saw her. Do you think she still is?"

"I don't know, but you will have plenty of time to make it up to her soon,"

"Yeah, yeah that's true... It's close now is it?"

"Moments if I had to guess," Copper shrugs, "The clot in your lung is migrating and will soon block off blood flow to the area completely. After that happens you won't be able to get enough air and will... fall asleep, then you will suffocate over a few minutes. It won't be the most pleasant of deaths, but it won't hurt badly," he simplified things greatly, not caring for the slight inaccuracies so long as they helped keep the rich man calm and peaceful in these final moments.

"Any final requests?" Copper cocks his head,

"I think... yeah, I think I want to be alone for this. Thank you," 

"Of course. Rest well then, and may your sleep bring great growth" Copper stood from his seat, the blessing leaving him without thought as the rich man closed his eyes a smile still tugging on his old, withered face.

The door to the rich man's room shut with a light thud as Copper drifted down the halls, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. He rarely visited the dying, usually he only came to the deceased caught between their death's and their afterlives to guide them across, and this was why. He knew where the clot was, it would only take a moment and a little bit of concentration to break it up enough that the rich man's body would be able to handle it on it's own. Sure, doing so would probably only buy him a few more bed bound days, a week maybe, but healers can rarely be trusted to leave the sick and dying to the whims of nature and he was no different. 

He wandered through the empty halls decorated with treasures that, do to a single deal made half a century ago, would soon be his, and found his way into a shrine room. Shelves upon shelves of precious jewls and metals, fine fabrics and sculptures filled the room. Though the alter beneath the stained glass window held only sea glass and shells that glittered from around a poorly made tapestry that depicted a stormy ocean.

The threads were too loose in some places too tight in others and there were places where it was clear the weaver ran out of one color and had attempted to dye more only for it to come out just wrong enough to be noticed. It was clearly made by inexperienced hands and now stood displayed still in it's loom in the place of honor on this shrine. Pride in its existence radiated from it and that made it stunning despite it's flaws. 

Distantly, he felt the rich man die, quietly and peacefully.

One of Copper's aspects would guide him across and later while Copper slept he'd dream of the conversation that aspect and the rich man would have, and he would dream of the conversations his other, near innumerable, aspects would have, and have had, and have been having with every other human who has crossed into his domain since he last slept. Then he would wake, and forget almost everything said during those conversations as they meld together into a messy but beautiful tapestry. All the threads visible and traceable in their places but ultimately he saw it not for the individuals, but the grander thing they made together.

He picked at the stones and shells scattered on one of the shelves, his dulled claws scraping against the rough surface. He should probably go find someone to deal with the body...

The soft creaking protest of a floor board that no longer fit in it's place being tread on called from behind him. Copper turned, curious to who or what would be intruding on this moment, but he was left slack jawed with a greeting trapped behind his lips as he saw the man.

Surrounded by gold and silver and precious gems that glittered in the low moonlight that flowed through the windows, this man outshone them all. He was tall for a human, coming up to just below Copper's collar bones, with broad, strong looking shoulders. His sharp features highlighted by the silver light caressing his warm tan skin and haloed by that same light echoing through the broken strands of bleach blonde hair that fell from his neat bun to frame his narrow face.

Light agitation turned to wonder and awesrrucked silence as Copper struggled for a second to find words, but once again those words died when he met the man's eyes, they were probably a deep brown but the low light turned them onyx. His gaze was sturdy, not cold or calculating, not bored. Determined but practiced.

The strange, beutiful, human man wore the expression of a butcher or a slaughterer, he did not draw perverse pleasure or joy from what came next. He was so obviously merely doing a job as he moved faster than Copper's confusion addled mind could react to that that alone struck more fear into Copper's core than if the man were hissing and snapping with rage.

The ice hot cut of an iron blade dug past the flesh between his ribs and into his chest even as he recoiled. On pure instinct he growled an awful rumbling sound that made the butcher- the hunter, flinch as Copper managed to stumble away, nearly falling to one knee as his own lung struggled to inflate. He could feel his magic burning along the wound as it tried, and failed to pull it closed. His hand going to his bloodied side in a vain attempt of staunching the flow. 

The hunter advanced, cautious and silent, his blade, slicked with Copper's own viscous black blood, raised as he followed the retreating god.

Copper hissed as his back collided with a shelf, cornered he pulled his attentions together just enough to attempt to teleport away, only to feel his magic jolt painfully within him as it failed completely.

The hunter advanced, already readying another swing.

In that moment Copper forced himself to focus on the warm summer night air, on the flickering candles and the heat of the hunter's body, most seals could be overpowered, he just needs to rush it hard enough. 

Heat leaves the room, the hunter stumbles with a pained gasp as the heat leaves him too. Copper doesn't see if the hunter falls because the seal gives as he uses all of that stolen energy to burst against it.

He drops to his knees on the cold stone floor of the cave he calls home. His blood singing through magic seared veins, his hands shaking as he braces one against the floor below him as his world swims, both from blood loss and the disorientation that always came with pushing his power that hard,

He struggles with his wound, gasping with effort as his magic finally starts working again. The wound tieing itself closed beneath his palm, a thick black scar forming as he comes down from the mountain top high of fearing for his life for the very first time since before the advent of this universe.

Copper slumps against the water-carved wall of his home, his head falling back against it with a deep buzz running beneath his skin, and he Laughs, deep and hearty and Alive in a way he has not felt in centuries.

[autumnsart22]

Oikawa x reader ch. 7

Longer chapter today, sorry! I just couldn’t stop writing this scene 😫

“Y/n, come on!” Kindaichi jabbed me in the side. 

“Ow!” I said, punching him. “I don’t want to go!”

“But it’s tradition,” Hanamaki said, coming up on my other side. 

I groaned. The idea of going to a mall arcade with 12 teenage boys and me as the only female might have been appealing to some girls, but not to me. When Kindaichi had asked if I was going yesterday after the practice game, I had almost immediately said no. But apparently, it was Seijoh’s tradition to go out and celebrate after every practice game we won. 

“Come on Iwa, tell her!” 

I glanced up to see Oikawa and Iwaizumi approaching, Oikawa’s knee was in a brace, but he wasn’t limping as badly as yesterday. The doctors had apparently given him a good amount of pain medication, but I hoped he wasn’t pushing himself too hard. I knew that despite my words yesterday, he still was disappointed in himself for not finishing up the game, but that wasn’t an excuse to keep hurting himself. 

“Tell her what?” Oikawa stopped in front of us, a hand on his hip. 

Yahaba smacked me across the head lightly as he spoke. “We’re trying to get her to come to the arcade with us.”

I rubbed my head, glaring. “And I told you, I have no interest in spending the afternoon with losers like the Aoba Johsai volleyball club.” I grinned wickedly, and Oikawa placed an offended hand on his chest. 

“Who else would you spend the afternoon with? Karasuno?”

I rolled my eyes, but I was suddenly getting accusatory glares from all the boys. 

In truth, I actually had been planning on hanging out with Karasuno, but there was no way I was admitting that. “How long are we going to be out?” I asked in a resigned tone. 

“A few hours, usually.” Iwaizumi said with a pitying look. “We usually go at 12--” 

“You can ride with me!” Oikawa interrupted, throwing an arm around me. I shrugged him off and raised my eyebrows. 

“Iwa literally lives down the block from me, so I can just ride with him. You’d just be going out of your way.” I glanced at Iwaizumi. “If that’s ok?” 

The ace nodded, his eyes shifting to Oikawa who looked a little put out. 

“You’re so mean, Y/n-chan! You never want to spend time with me!” Oikawa complained. 

I grinned and poked him in the shoulder. “Maybe it’s because you’re such a baby.” 

That night, I called Kiyoko. I felt like I hadn’t seen her in ages, even though it had only been a week. I told her that I would have to come to the Karasuno sleepover a bit later than I expected, but I would still make it. Hopefully two teams in one day wouldn’t be too much for my poor mental state to handle. 

I wanted to tell Kiyoko everything about Oikawa and the team, how I finally felt like I belonged at Aoba Johsai, but at the same time, I felt like a traitor. It was stupid and irrational, especially since she had been the one to tell me to become Seijoh’s manager, but we were no longer directly involved in each others day to lives. It made me upset, but I vowed that I would have her meet my new team as soon as possible. 

The next day, Iwaizumi pulled up in front of my house in his huge black pickup truck at exactly 12. My mom, reading through paperwork at her desk by the front window, stared at the intimidating vehicle in mild confusion or disgust, but I thought it was hilarious. 

I snatched my purse from the kitchen table, stuffing my phone in my pocket, and then I ran out the door to meet Iwa. As I jogged up the passenger seat, I blinked in surprise to see Oikawa already seated there. 

As I crawled into the backseat, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I slept over at Iwa-chan’s house. Is that a crime?” 

“Nope. You just stole my seat.” 

He reclined his seat all the way back until it was resting on my lap, and I could barely move. “Oikawa!” 

He grinned up at me, poking my cheek. “You’re so cute, Y/n-chan!”

I rolled my eyes and stuck out my tongue. “Will you get up?”

“Honestly, I’m pretty comfortable here.” 

“Ughhhh.”

Iwaizumi gave me an “I’m so sorry” look, and punched Oikawa. “Get your ass off her, Shittykawa.” 

The two argued the whole way to the arcade, which was around a fifteen minute drive, and Iwaizumi almost hit Kunimi pulling into the parking lot because he was too busy trashing Oikawa. 

The rest of the team was already waiting by the entrance of the mall by the time we all walked up, and they greeted me with just as much excitement as the two boys. I got swept into a tide of Watari, Matsuwaka, and Kindaichi, who literally dragged me through the glass doors of the mall and towards the arcade. I could hear pounding music and flashing lights coming from within, and I sighed, resigning myself to a long day. 

The arcade was huge, way bigger than I expected. Every arcade game I could have imagined was there, ranging from the Jurassic park shooting games, to classic pac man, to car racing, each one flashing dizzyingly in the darkness. 

“Usually we play to see who can get the most tickets,” Kindaichi practically yelled over the music. I nodded to signal that I understood, and followed them through a maze of games to the race car driving. There were exactly four seats, and it didn’t take long for us to get into a violent competition of racing. 

I ended up winning three out of the four games we played, boasting a huge handful of tickets by the end. The three boys were shocked, but I had Tanaka and Nishinoya to blame. Over the course of two years, I had probably played the game at least a thousand times with them, giving me quite the edge. 

My eyes were burning from staring at the screen for so long, so I quickly excused myself to go to the bathroom. Almost instantly, I was lost in the maze of games and darkness, completely turned around by the dozens of blinking screens. 

“Are you lost?” An unfamiliar voice asked from behind me, and I turned. A tall guy with dyed blonde hair and dark undercut and earrings looked down at me, smirking. He wore a white t-shirt and black sweats. 

“Oh, uh...yeah I am actually. Do you know where there’s a bathroom--”

“What’s your name? You’re pretty cute.”

As the guy spoke, I noticed he had a tongue piercing. 

“Um-” 

“There you are Y/n.”  I felt relief pierce me like a knife as I turned to see Oikawa and Iwaizumi prowling towards me, both of their eyes spelling out literal death for the guy still standing behind me, a little too close. 

“Is this guy bothering you?” Iwaizumi looked down at me, face blank.

Oikawa wasn’t as subtle. His arm slid around my waist, tugging me into the protective shelter of his side. He had a truly terrifying smile on his face as he glared at the blonde guy, daring him to say something. 

“It’s ok. He was just leaving.” I tried to say, but Oikawa was suddenly leaning forward, a look of delight crossing his face. 

“Wait a minute...You’re Terushima Yūji, captain of Johzenji high volleyball club, aren’t you?

I blinked, looking back at the guy. Captain of Johzenji volleyball club? Karasuno had played Johzenji a few times in the past, and as I stared at the guy in front of me, I felt a vague sense of recognition. 

Terushima smirked, not looking very intimidated by Oikawa or Iwaizumi. “Wow, I guess I must be popular. And wait, let me guess...hurt knee, annoying attitude--you must be Oikawa Toru from Aoba Johsai.”

Before Oikawa could respond, Terushima’s gaze was moving back to me. “But the better question is, who is she? She’s very…” His eyes trailed slowly down my body, and he smirked wider. 

I felt Oikawa tense up so hard, I was sure he was trying to hold himself back. I turned to look at him, my hand wrapping around his shirt. “Oikawa,” I whispered, tugging. “It’s fine, seriously.” 

Iwaizumi was who I didn’t count on. The wing spiker shoved Terushima so hard, the other boy almost fell on his ass. “Get the fuck out of here, you disgusting piece of shit. If you ever talk to her like that again, I will personally beat the fuck out of you.” 

I had never heard Iwa so angry. Terushima glared, but he seemed to realize that Iwa and Oikawa were ready to fight, and he was outnumbered. Instead, he grinned and flipped Iwaizumi off. 

“I look forward to seeing you all at the next game.” He winked at me before turning and sauntering away. 

It took almost a full five minutes for Oikawa to relax and let go of me. I tried to tell both him and Iwa that I was totally fine, that Terushima hadn’t even done anything that bad, but they continued to look murderous. I was almost afraid that they would go after the captain of Johzenji the second I let them out of my sight, so instead I tried to distract them. 

“Oikawa, hey! It’s fine! We’re at an arcade, so can we please play some games?”

They finally agreed, and we all set up in front of one of the zombie shooting games. I usually wasn’t particularly good at them, and this time was no exception. Iwaizumi ended up getting the most points, Oikawa close behind him, but I barely even killed two zombies. My failure seemed to cheer up Oikawa, who went back to his typical annoying self, poking fun at me as usual. 

“You’re terrible at this, Y/n-chan!” He mocked, putting down his gun. Iwaizumi put in a few coins to start up another round, and Oikawa moved behind me, arms wrapping around my shoulders, my back suddenly flat against his chest. His hands were almost twice the size of my own as they guided me to the proper position to hold the plastic gun. 

“Wha--” I stuttered, brain short circuiting at the setter’s sudden proximity. 

“You hold it here, and move around like this,” he said in my ear, breath washing across my neck. I felt like my face was on fire, and I was sure that if anyone saw me, they’d think I was a tomato who had come to life and started speaking. 

A zombie jumped out, and Oikawa’s arms tensed around me as he fired the fake gun at the screen. I could barely focus, far too aware of his chin hovering just over my shoulder, his arms around my torso, and his hands tight on mine. I felt like I could melt right there. 

The game was one of the longest five minutes of my life, but also ended far too soon.  Before I knew it, Iwazumi was slamming down his gun in defeat and turning to Oikawa. I felt the heat of Seijoh’s captain pull away as he dropped his arms and stepped back, and I let out  a breath that I didn’t even know I was holding. 

I turned around, heart still racing, but Oikawa was already moving towards another game. It didn’t mean anything. I had to remember that. 

I stood in front of the claw machine, arms crossed and pouting. I had already wasted half my coins on the stupid thing, trying to get a sweet blue whale stuffed animal that rested in the corner of the box, but it looked like it was impossible. 

“You still didn’t get it?” Iwa asked from the air hockey table, where he played viciously against Kunimi.

I glared at him. “No need to sound so condescending!”

“Move, I’ll get it for you.” Oikawa came up and shoved me out of the way, and I made a noise of indignation. 

“You don’t have to--”

But he was already shoving coins into the slot, smirking at me. “Watch the master, new girl.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes. But as I watched Oikawa manipulate the level, I practically leapt out of my skin from excitement. Hands against the glass, I simultaneously watched the claw as it moved across the box, positioning over the whale, and also Oikawa’s concentrated face. I had only ever seen him get this serious during a volleyball game. 

The claw descended, wrapping around the whale with a precarious grip on its tail. My eyes were wide as it got closer, closer, and--

The whale dropped into the box, and Oikawa handed it to me, a proud and smug smile on his face. I let out a cry of delight, abandoning any pretense as I flung my arms around his neck. I couldn’t see his face, but he hugged me back tightly. 

“Thank you so much Oikawa, I love it,” I said, pulling away. 

He grinned.. “I have one condition: you have to name him after me.”

“What?! How do you know it’s a boy?”

He crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows. 

“Fine, Tooru the whale it is.” I hugged the stuffy tightly, not noticing Oikawa’s cheeks get red in the darkness of the arcade. 

“Wait one sec.” The setter whipped out his phone and held it up, and I had just enough time to hold up my stuffed animal and smile widely before the camera flashed and the picture was taken. 

“You’re so cute, Chibi-chan!” Oikawa said, holding out the phone. In the photo, I smiled widely and happily, Oikawa’s head resting against mine as he held up a peace sign. Of course, Oikawa looked far better than me, but there was no use complaining about that. 

“Wanna play the dance battle game?” I asked, noticing it as we walked back towards where the rest of the team was. 

Seijoh’s setter looked down at me. “Are you ready to be destroyed?” 

“Ha! As if.”

“I guess we’ll have to see then.” 

I laughed, setting down Tooru the whale and my purse off to the side. “What song do you want?”

I didn’t know many of the options, so Oikawa picked Five More Hours by Deorro and Chris Brown, an American dance song. 

The arrows began to flash on the screen, and Oikawa and I both furiously began to jump on the arrows, probably looking ridiculous. The song was fast paced and I was completely out of breath from laughing. By the end, I abandoned all attempts of getting the right arrows, and just danced around to the beat of the music, watching Oikawa crush the game. How was he so good looking while dancing to such a ridiculous song? 

“Wow Oikawa, I think you should look into becoming a professional dancer!” Hanamaki yelled, standing a few feet away with his phone out, filming us, the rest of the team behind him. I almost immediately became embarrassed, but Oikawa clearly revelled in the attention. 

He flipped off Hanamaki before turning to me with a wide smile. Before I could stop him, he grabbed me around the waist, holding one of my hands up so we were dancing together, abandoning the game completely. 

I laughed in delight as the beat dropped and we both started jumping around crazily like idiots. Oikawa still held my hands, but my overwhelming happiness pushed the embarrassment aside. 

When the song finally ended, I collapsed in a fit of giggles. Oikawa was laughing and panting, leaning against the railing for support, while the rest of the team clapped and whooped. I stepped off the raised floor of the game, stumbling over to the rest of the team where they slapped me on the back. I cringed; their slaps were unbelievably hard from volleyball. 

“Hanamaki, send me that video,” Oikawa said, joining us over by the basketball game. 

“I’m hungryyyy,” Kunimi complained. 

Iwaizumi crossed his arms. “Me too. Want to go to the food court?” 

“I’ll join guys,” Watari said, and Kindaichi, Kunimi, and Kyōtani nodded, all of them agreeing that they were ready for food. Yuda, Sawauchi, and Shido all wanted to play another round of motorcycle racing, so I was left alone again with Oikawa. 

Neither of us were hungry, so instead we headed to the photobooth which sat by the door of the arcade. I didn’t really like getting my picture taken, since I always seemed to look awkward and terrible, but Oikawa insisted. 

“As our new manager, you need a picture with your captain, obviously.” 

I gave him a look. “Do you just have a wall of photo booth pictures with all the managers of Aoba Johsai over the years?”

Oikawa smirked, tapping me on the nose. “Nope, you’re the first one.”

“I’m honored.” 

The booth was very small, and Oikawa’s legs were scrunched up as we squeezed next to each other on the bench. I tried to ignore the fact that we were completely wedged next to each other, with me practically in his lap. 

He clicked the screen, and a countdown started, and I stuck out my tongue. The second picture we both smiled widely, and the third we made weird faces at the camera. 

In the fourth and final picture, I turned to Oikawa and kissed him on the cheek. 

It was completely random, a spontaneous burst of courage, and before I could really think about it, the camera had clicked and the picture was taken. 

We climbed out of the booth, my face hot. Oikawa scooped up the two printed sheets of photos, handing one to me. He looked completely delighted as he stared down at them, which only made me blush more. Just friends. 

“What time is it?” I murmured aloud, realizing I hadn’t checked my phone in a while. Tugging it from my bag, I choked. It was already 4:15, and Kiyoko, Daichi, and Tanaka had called me a total of 11 times. 

I quickly clicked Kiyoko’s name, turning from Oikawa without an explanation. “Hey Kiyoko! I’m so sorry, I lost track of time. I’m about to leave the arcade and get an Uber, so I’ll probably be there in like twenty minutes.”

“It’s totally fine, we were just worried about if you had died or something.” Kiyoko said, a smile in her voice. 

I heard Tanaka in the background of the call. “Is that Y/n? Tell her to get the fuck over here!” 

“Ok, I’ll see you soon!” I said, and clicked end on the call. 

“You have to leave?” Oikawa asked. Was I imagining that he looked a little put out? 

“Yeah, I’m going to run and catch an Uber,” I said, pulling the app up on my phone. 

“I’ll walk you out.”

“It’s fine--”

He flicked me on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

The sun was starting to set and a purple sheen passing over the sky, but the mall was still busy, late night shoppers just beginning their trips. I carried my stuffed animal in one arm, my purse in the other, the photobooth picture stuffed into one of the pockets for safe keeping. 

We stopped at the curb, and I turned to Oikawa. “Thank you for today. I actually had a lot of fun.”

“Aw, Y/n-chan, no need to thank me. We should do it again sometime.” 

“After we win the next practice game?”

“Well--”

At that moment, the Uber pulled up next to us, and I stepped off the curb towards it. 

“Talk more later ok? I’ll see you Tuesday, Oikawa!” I smiled brightly and waved before stepping into the car. 

Chapter 6

Chapter 8

[thevoidscreams]

Movie night

Kung Lao x reader Rating: M Summary:  Your bi monthly movie night with your favorite monk turns spicy, a lot of feelings get shaken loose. Word count:  2497 This has been in my wips FOREVER! I wanted to finally get it done and post it somewhere.

_________________________________ The soft light from the tv dimly lit the room, not the best for your eyes in this otherwise completely dark space, but like hell was that gonna stop you from enjoying yourself. You hadn't seen this movie yet and that excites you. From what you could tell the fighting was well choreographed and the characters weren't too cookie cutter. 

Another clump of bland white rice found its way into your mouth as yet again a fight scene graced your screen. The sounds of the combat are greatly exaggerated but not enough to not be enjoyable.

"His stance is all off, his legs need to be bent more and his body needs to be lower."

That made you chuckle. Kung lao had a habit of making you laugh and smile, which is precisely why you invited him over twice a month for terrible non-authentic Chinese food and kungfu movies. Really though any movie containing asian martial arts was fair game. He had a surprisingly extensive catalog of knowledge about other forms of martial arts.

 It was partially for this fact that his knowledgeable criticisms had become very endearing to you and surprisingly interesting.

"Ever the critic, ey Kung lao? I'd Like to see you do a triple backflip off a roof and land in a perfect stance on the ground below." The monk tipped his head back with a smirk, his titular hat missing from his person. "Oh I know I could, just you wait, I'll show you that I could do it better." That too was becoming a common phrase when you watched these movies. ‘ “I could do it better.” Yeah I bet you could.’ You’d think to yourself as you smiled at him.

With a carefree shrug you relent, continuing on your bland white grains.

The movie pressed on and the fight ended, the hero was wounded but alive and the rather pretty love interest was tending his injuries.

"I wish I had a beautiful woman to tend to me after my fights." Lao sighed wistfully, one hand draped over his eyes in pretend sadness.

"Hey now wait just a minute." The sound of your voice cut through the quiet like a hot knife. "If I recall correctly, I gave you a band aid not even a week ago." The shocked and offended act you put on would have made Johnny Cage proud.

"Oh yes of course. My mistake. How could I possibly forget your heroic act in saving my life from that paper cut. My apologies." Kung lao acted in return, bowing to you in mock submission.

"You should be sorry, you could have lost a finger to that dreadful and most grievous of injuries." You closed the distance to playfully push his shoulder before cuddling into his side.

He huffed in amusement as he lazily draped an arm over you. It felt so natural to be touched by him after all the years you'd known him. Lao didn't hesitate to give you hugs and let you cuddle up to him, he seemed almost starved for these small acts of affection. Well you wouldn’t deny him at all, his happy little sighs always made you smile.

As time passed on screen the two characters grew closer and the tension between them finally snapped. The way the protagonist's mouth moved over her neck making her sigh in satisfaction, the sounds in turn made you feel uncomfortably warm. Lao shifted next to you. The fingers that had been rubbing idle circles on your hip had gone completely still, his whole form now stiff.

Progressing forward the two draped themselves over a small bed. You hadn't expected this,but here it was. A cursory glance determined that your friend's face was nearly beet red. Breaking the tension might help him relax, so saying the first thing that came to mind you inquired "So how about that lao?"

 He looked down at you confused and flustered. "About what?" 

"Think you could do that better?" Your question was capped off by a rather loud moan from the female lead. 

The slack jawed expression that he gave you lasted for only a few moments, but it was enough to make you nervous that you'd made him upset or ruined something. 

"I, uh… I might." This was new, there was rarely a time when Kung lao was so quiet or seemingly unsure of his own abilities.

Then again all his blood appeared to be taking refuge in other places aside his brain. The comfortable pair of sweatpants he was wearing made it abundantly clear how his body was feeling, probably a lot like yours was. This could be the perfect opportunity to really get your feelings out in the open and scratch an itch that had been bothering you since the day you met the cocky Shaolin.

"Oh? Well why don't you show me then?"

A small gamble this was not, given Kung lao's vows, he might just turn you away. Although he wouldn't be the first shaolin in history to have a lover, lord knows Liu Kang wasn't just friends with Kitana. Still the terrifying thought of never seeing him again was almost enough to make you put on the break and pass this off as a joke.

"Well if you insist, but I must forewarn you that I don't intend to go easy on you." His response made your insides feel as if you'd suddenly come down with a case of butterflies. "Perfect, I was hoping for exactly that." 

Sitting up fully you brought your leg over his waist and sat your ass squarely over his apparent arousal.

Lao seemed just as at a loss for words as you did, merely enjoying the feeling of your plush rump pressed against him through the thin cotton fabric of your pajama shorts.

Suffice it to say the movie was all but forgotten about as Kung lao sat up, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips excitedly to yours. They were warm and so very nice against your own. It felt good and it felt right to kiss one of the people you'd called your best friend for years.

The way your bodies moved was a bit clumsy but your hips had a pretty decent rhythm now. Lao swallowed your moans with his kisses and vice versa. Slowly his hands left your hips, working up and down your sides growing more confident with every motion.

For an indeterminate amount of time this make out session kept you both busy only allowing you to break for air when you felt like your lungs were going to explode.

At last the kiss was broken and you could only think of one thing as you wiggle your hips against Lao's, your panties were completely  soaked with your own slick and sweat.

"Lao. Lao I need you, I can't wait anymore. I've needed you for so long, please." It sounded so desperate, the way you whine for him to take you. But the fucks you gave at that moment were only for Kung lao.

 "By the elder gods I've wanted to hear you say that since I met you."

 His fingers were needy and rough as he slipped them into the hem of your shorts pulling the fabric down. You stopped him and stood up to fully divest yourself of clothing. Lao watched mesmerized by the display. 

"You know the activity I had in mind works best if we're both naked." It was such a gentle sort of teasing but the way the monk sprung into action you might as well have told him he was on fire. He abandoned his garments quickly, having been in far fewer clothes than he usually wore. 

Now you were both bare and exposed to each other and your view was simply spectacular, Lao looked like he'd been sculpted by Pygmalion himself and brought to life by some ancient deity just for you.  He was simply divine to look at and the idea of getting your hands on him made the prospect of what you were about to do even more exhilarating. 

With all the grace you could manage you closed the distance between you and coiled your arms around him, pressing your chest to his and indulging in his warmth.

"I can't believe it." Lao breathed, sounding happy and in complete disbelief. "You're even more beautiful than I thought." The compliment drew a happy little breath from you. "Thank you, you're even better. I mean I've seen you shirtless before but now I actually get to touch you too. I don't know if I'll be able to control myself."

Lao chortled at your confession.

"Then by all means, don't."

With that you both stepped back and fell onto the couch, your lips locked and your bodies pressed snugly against each other's.

Carefully you reached between his body and yours to find his cock and stroke it. Lao hissed in satisfaction as did you upon finding him fully erect and ready. Normally quite a bit of foreplay was a must but tonight was not a night for hella pre gaming your sex. After all you were already dripping like a broken faucet. You slid two fingers into your slit and worked your fingers in time with the hand stroking his cock. Lao busied himself with palming your breasts and kissing you. It wasn’t enough though, You wanted to feel him inside of you and pulled your hand away from your own aching cunt to brace yourself against the back of the couch. 

It  took almost no effort to slip him inside of you and when you did your body shook at the sensation.

 It was like slipping the last piece of the puzzle into place and stepping back to look at the whole picture. All the tiny details made absolute sense now, all the squashed feelings and signs you glossed over because you were certain it was all in your head and those feelings were surely unrequited. It was so clear now that this was what was supposed to be and the overwhelming sense of rightness brought physical tears to your eyes. 

Of course Lao nearly pulled out thinking he'd hurt you somehow but your vice like legs kept him firmly in place. 

"Are you alright? Does it hurt?"

In truth it burned slightly to be so stretched out again but it was far from painful enough to stop.

"No no no. Please it's just so good." When you finally realized you had closed your eyes at some point you opened them slowly to look into your lover's eyes. Kung lao was nearly startled by the joy he found there, it was the very same joy he felt deep within himself. This was right. He'd live the rest of his days knowing this and he'd die knowing this. 

After a few minutes of sweet whispers and soft touches you gave the all clear and the real fun began. 

What Lao lacked in experience he made up for in work ethic, finding a pace that made you both cry out in pure bliss calling for one another, you found yourself pleading for more. Not that you knew what more was, you just knew you wanted it.

Years of training gave him a leg up on controlling his body's movements. His thrusts, though shakey at first, became firm and rhythmic. Still it took adjustment to find a position that worked just right for you both. It was almost like a game or challenge that you were both determined to do well at for the sake of the other.

Lao seemed to have a knack for finding every little spot inside of you that drove you wild. 

He was quite vocal in his satisfaction, growling and moaning praises to you in a mix of English and Chinese. His hands wandered over your body seemingly of their own accord. Starting at your hips then over your waist, they played with your breasts tenderly until finally they curled back around your waist to hold you close to him.

Sex had never been like this before, you struggled to get off with other partners, often having to either pleasure yourself mid act or finishing yourself off after. You couldn't recall a time when just penetration was enough to make your back arch, your eyes fill with stars and your voice cry out in pure exhilaration and pleasure.

Hell, maybe Lao had more than just hat magic, maybe he had sex magic as well.

Whatever it was it was bringing you quickly to your end. The first wave of your orgasm was otherworldly, drawing sounds from your lungs that you didn't recognize. Mixing with breathless pleas that began but never went anywhere.

The monk held you close to him as his pace faltered and the tightness of your sex drew him over the edge just after you. It was truly a new sensation to him, nothing else before this could compare and he could finally see the appeal in it as he spilled his seed into you.

The afterglow could have lit up a stadium. 

Lao pet the mused strands of your hair back into place as he peppered your face and neck with sweet kisses. 

Slowly you could hear your voice as the credits to the movie scrolled slowly to the sound of mandolins and flutes. You'd have to watch the rest of the movie next time.

"I don't know if it still matters at all… but you definitely did it better." You laughed, kissing Kung Lao deeply and running your fingers through his hair.

He smiled into the kiss and pulled away for breath still smiling. "Told you." He sure did, you’d give him credit for that.

The night was basically over, Raiden had promised to be by in the morning to collect him so you still had time. You dragged him back to your room and slipped into bed next to him. He held you close and rested his chin on the top of your head. Once it was quiet real worry began to settle in. You’d just had sex with Kung Lao, a shaolin monk, one who’d made a vow of chastity. Would he get in trouble for this. Be kicked out of his home. The thoughts and sudden guilt began to plague your mind. The sudden pressure of his arms increased around you while his voice broke the silence. “I know you're worrying, you don’t have to. I knew what I was doing and I know so long as it doesn’t interfere with my ability to protect earth realm then Raiden won’t say anything.” He kissed your cheek. It did calm you to hear this and with him here with you telling everything would be okay, the troubles faded from your mind. Soon sleep overcame you. In the morning things would be different. You could iron out the details later, just so long as he was part of them.

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 7

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 7

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and light smut.

Words: ~2200 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5   Part 6

Chapter 7

You should have asked Billy to stop. The logical part of you knew fucking him in some dirty alleyway was wrong. You deserved better than this, even if he didn’t think so, but when his mouth was on yours and ravaging you, and you were filled with so much anger that you wanted to scream – well, it dulled the sane part of you. Your body was desperate for release and you simply gave into your baser instincts.

You ripped his leather jacket off while he did the same with your coat. You bit his bottom lip so hard you tasted blood in your mouth as he braced you uncomfortably against the jagged wall. There was nothing remotely tender or loving about this moment as he pulled your underwear down and hiked up your skirt to your waist. Knee propped against the wall, he balanced you atop his leg. You rubbed yourself on his thigh, groaning at the arousing feel of his rough jeans on your pussy.  The moans you cried out were swallowed by his demanding mouth, his fingers bruising your hips as he held you steady.

You quickly unzipped his jeans, pulling his cock out, pumping him quickly before he forcibly removed your hand from his. His fingers slipped inside your mouth and you licked them with your tongue, your teeth nipping his skin. You were so wet already, grinding down on him, but he took his fingers from your mouth and reached down to stroke your pussy, getting you ready for him. You gasped when he penetrated you slowly, taking his time so you felt every inch of him impale you. Your body shuddered, quivering under the intensity of his gaze as he watched you take him in. Then he began to thrust, jostling your body hard against him. Clinging to him, you bit his shoulder hard each time.

You missed him, the feel of his hands all over you when he was excited, the weight of his body pressing down on you when he was inside you, how loud and wild he was when he was fucking you.

Eyes closed, you lolled your head back against the wall and moaned loudly as he brushed your clit. The combination of his cock and fingers drove you crazy, you were lost in a haze of ecstasy when Billy lifted you higher. You winced with pain as your back scraped against the wall but he didn’t notice, focused on maneuvering your leg around his waist so he can go in deeper.

Pain and pleasure rocked through your body. You could feel yourself getting close, so close, when he suddenly gripped your chin.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” His voice was tender, gentle, eyes shining bright. “Look at me, Y/N.”

His beautiful brown eyes were glazed with need, mouth slightly open. He peered up at you, his nose crinkled, with the most amazed expression on his face. Struck by an intense wave of affection, you caressed his beard and leaned forward to lick his bottom lip. A warm, wicked smile marked his lips before he pulled your lip with his teeth, playing with you.  

Hips undulating in unison, his fingers working you, you hit your orgasm within seconds and the world exploded.

As waves of pleasure surged through you, you rode them out, blissful and semi-aware of Billy still thrusting in you as he sucked the corner of your neck. He groaned loudly, his body shaking, when he finally came inside you.

Time stood still. Your body felt boneless, your mind soaring.

You were limp in his arms, probably heavy as hell, but he somehow managed to still hold you up, breath ragged at first but slowly returning to normal. He grasped the back of your head with one hand while cradling your face with the other, angling up to graze your forehead, your eyebrows, dropping gentle kisses on the top of your closed eyelids. You murmured contentedly, enjoying this unexpected moment of tenderness from him.  

Then you heard voices approaching and your eyes flew open. The reality of where you were hit you like a ton of bricks. Immediately you untangled yourself from Billy’s arms, pushing him away, and started righting your clothes.

Your thighs felt wet, slick with his cum. You dug through your pockets for Kleenex, something you could use to clean yourself but there wasn’t any. But Billy was prepared, of course he was. His eyes glued to your face, he retrieved tissue from his jacket pocket and started wiping your thighs. “I can do it!” you snapped, grabbing it from him. When you felt somewhat presentable again, you started walking away.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

You pulled out your phone to request an Uber but he snapped it from your hand. “What are you doing? Give me my phone back!”

“I’ll take you home.”

“I’ll get home myself. I don’t need anything from you!”

“Just shut up and follow me to my car.”

The last thing you wanted was to spend more time with him but he was holding your phone hostage. You followed him grudgingly, careful to keep your distance. The car was parked nearby and upon approaching the vehicle, he held the passenger side door open for you. You knew better than to assume the chivalrous gesture was meant for you specifically. It was a thing he always did, as part of the charming image he cultivated, but whereas he usually wore a smile when he held the door open, right now he simply looked furious. You slid in; he slammed the door shut. As you buckled your seat belt, you grimaced. The same spot on your back that had scraped against the wall was now rubbing against the seat and the friction from the contact was almost painful.  

The car ride home was filled with tension. You felt his eyes on you every so often but you refused to acknowledge him, not when your mind was reeling with hurt and anger. How could you be so stupid? You were supposed to move on from him, instead you fucked him in some alleyway next to a crowded restaurant. Worse yet, there was a chance your boss may have spotted you. You may have potentially risked your career for a guy who wouldn’t even go out with you.  

Over the past year, researching him as you had, you’d come to realize he needed the finer things in life. His car, his penthouse, the clothes he wore, they were all a status symbol for him. He needed them to feel like he’d accomplished something, probably to separate himself from the kid who grew up in foster homes and had nothing. Women, obviously, played into that equation as well. Women like Dinah Madani, beautiful, powerful, accomplished, they looked great in his arms and made him feel good about himself – but you were not in the same category of women as Dinah and he treated you accordingly. She was good enough to take to the gala, to be the date he wined and dined. You were the woman he fucked in secret. Well, not exactly a secret because he fucked you on the street like you were trash. Somehow you didn’t think Dinah Madani would ever get the two-bit whore treatment from Billy.

Rage hit you again, and you scooted as far from him as possible. The movement caused the sore spot on your back to hit the chair again and you winced.

“You okay?” he asked.

You were starting to panic, taking count of everything that had gone wrong in the past hour. The man who tried to kill you was out on bail. Roger found out you had shared embarrassing info with a competitor, which may have potentially jeopardized your job. You just fucked someone without protection, someone who was known for sleeping around.

Suddenly you couldn’t breathe, everything was weighing down on you. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You hunched over, clutching your temples, staring down at the floormat. You were struggling to breathe, your chest felt constricted.

You felt Billy rub your back, murmuring some nonsense to you, but you ignored him, instead closing your eyes to take a few deep breaths. You inhaled slowly, exhaled slowly. You did it for several minutes. Soon the panic subsided and a familiar numbness took over. Your mind was clear again.

So, yeah, you were in deep shit at the moment, but it was nothing compared to what you’d gone through in the past. You were able to get out of your family’s clutches, that meant you could get through anything. You just had to be calm and formulate a plan.

Okay. Out of everything that had gone wrong, the easiest thing to fix was an unwanted pregnancy. You’d go down to the pharmacy and get Plan B. That way you didn’t have to worry about being knocked up. And then you’d make an appointment next week with the clinic to get checked out. Even though Billy was usually very careful about using a condom – except today – you had no idea how many other women he was sleeping with and you didn’t want to risk catching anything from him.

Two things down, two more things to go.

First thing when you got home, you’d call Roger. You’d reassure him that telling Billy about Adam Preston was a one-time thing and you weren’t in the habit of divulging confidential information to a competitor. You were shook up yesterday, you weren’t in your right mind, and that had resulted in a terrible error in judgement. It was never going to happen again. And Roger valued you, he appreciated all the work you did, he wouldn’t hold something so silly over you. And if he saw you fucking Billy? You cringed at the thought, but there was no point in inviting trouble. If he did catch you red-handed, well, you’d cross that bridge when you came to it. “There’s a pharmacy at the end of my street,” you said to Billy, without looking at him. “You can drop me off there.”

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Adam Preston was the biggest problem you had to overcome. You’d already started looking into his family, trying to find dirt that you could use as leverage against them in case you needed to. But you remembered the look in Adam’s eyes when he’d been ready to kill you. He was unhinged and held you responsible for everything wrong in his life. There was a very good chance he couldn’t be reasoned with or blackmailed, but you were not going to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder in fear. No, never again. You’d spent your entire childhood that way, always wondering what inconsequential thing would set your father off. You were not going to live through that again. So, fuck Adam Preston. If he couldn’t be controlled, then he’d have to be eliminated. Simple as that. And you knew exactly who to turn to for that.

“Give me my phone,” you said to Billy, finally turning to look at him.

Dividing his attention between the road ahead and you, he shot you a confused glance. “I’ve been talking to you for the last ten minutes. Have you heard a single thing I’ve said?”

“No.” You held out your hand. “My phone, Billy.”

“Why do you need to go to a pharmacy?” He cast her a quick glance. “Did I hurt you?”

“I don’t want to get knocked up by you. So I’m going to the pharmacy to get that taken care of. Does that answer your question?”

You noted the way his jaw clenched, but you reminded yourself not to care. You were done with Billy. You were done with feeling like shit. The first time he made you feel worthless, you could console yourself with the fact it hadn’t been your fault. Before you caught him with Dinah, you didn’t know he viewed you. Every time since then, however, was a conscious choice on your part to engage with him which meant you were solely responsible for how pathetic you felt right now. He was selfish, callous, and treated you like shit, and yet you still fucked him. That was something you had to hold yourself accountable to.

Parking his car a few feet away from the pharmacy doors, he turned off his car. His face was dark, his voice terse. “I didn’t force you to fuck me back there, babe. You wanted it as much as I did.”

You met his solemn stare. “You’re right. I did. I fucked you even though you make me feel worthless. There’s only been one other person who’s made me feel that ugly and I cut them out a long time ago - but not you, you I fuck.” A bitter laugh escaped you. “I told you about the Adam thing and what did you do? You went and threw it in my boss’s face so you can brag about Anvil. He could fire me tomorrow and I wouldn’t have any recourse because I’m the one who divulged confidential information. But you feeling smug and superior is obviously more important than me keeping my job.” You looked away from him, staring out the window. “You keep hurting me, and I just let you. For what? Because I have feelings for you? Because some part of me might love you? That’s not a good enough reason.” You shook your head. “I fought like hell to make something of myself, to be safe and happy. I’m not going to let these stupid feelings ruin all that. You will not destroy me.” You felt calm, at peace with your decision. “Give me my phone.”

Your fingers made physical contact when he handed you your phone. His potent stare was affixed on you, angry, volatile, filled with emotion, but you ignored his gaze and snatched the phone away from him.

You opened the door and exited the car, heading to the pharmacy. There was a line at the counter and you took the opportunity to block Billy’s number on your phone.

It was odd. Revealing your weaknesses to Billy, making yourself vulnerable – any of those would have made you hyperventilate before. You weren’t in the habit of giving people ammunition to use against you, but you suspected it was the only way to get rid of Billy permanently. And, strangely, telling him how you felt in the car was freeing. Because, ultimately, it didn’t matter what he thought, the only thing that mattered was you. And you were ready to move on.

Part 8

A/N - As always, thank you for being such a wonderful, generous audience and all the likes, reblogs, comments, asks, and messages you’ve left me. Trust me when I say, I’m committed to finish this story because of you :)

If you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list, please let me know.

Tag List

@yourfavoritefruitybitch​ @voyevoda-thejoy @adreamemporium @queenmalhinewahine  @gubleryum @galaxyjane  @xceafh @maralisa124 @tomhollandisabae @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-baby-nor @all-art-is-quite-useless  @tanyaherondale  @nashibirne  @dour-trash  @thetallassgirl @athenamikaelson  @agent-jbarnes  @primadonnasdream  @aleksanderwh0r3  @elisemockingbird @nihilismworld @archisur @nemesis729  @lysawayne @kaqua @ladyblablabla @lemasonda @advictedtohim @24-martie   @tarkanelima-blog @shinebrightlikeafanbase  @krystal-clear1 @damalseer @dontjinx-it @darkishx   @wanderlusting-about-life @thatguppienamedbae @happypepperdog @bat-revival  @sassygirl25  @consulting--heroes  @the-celestial-kitsune  @mackaywhore  @ablxssm @competitive-dust @red-head011 @exo-1204  @sunsetenigma @millieb-3199 @chatnain @licensedcheek @tinkertailor1212 @vertesalope @safetyhtom @acourtofglassandroses @eliwinchester-barnes @finnismyoriginalsin @weallhaveadestiny   @beananacake  @beauty-and-the-beast97 @smurfelle  @fire-treasure-iii  @charly-0  @kestrafagnor  @pigwidgeonxo  @damagelove  @allegra-writes  @pensandthings  @jad3djay

[berrykook]

can’t bear it (y!hs)

set in the overtime universe

in which hoseok is just trying to help you understand that he knows what’s best for you and you feel yourself start to slip

contents: yandere!hoseok, kidnapping, “gaslighting” / manipulation, vomit, gore / mutilation, good/bad little girl rhetoric

word count: 3.7k

a/n: thanks for the request !! i had fun writing it heheh

i’m tagging gaslighting in quotations because i feel like hoseok is like,, KiNdA gaslighting but pretty lightly

also idk why my mc’s always be throwing up LOL it’s just for a second i swear

my inbox is open for yandere requests! i do not write non-con, hitting (punching, slapping, etc.), or ddlg / ageplay (in this fic i included good/bad little girl rhetoric because i thought it would make hoseok seem more spooky but otherwise i do not write ageplay --- use of word daddy is ok)

lmk what u guys think!

*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ 

Your stomach softly growled as you stared down into your takeout box of noodles and studied the way the sauce doesn’t cling to some vegetables. Hoseok ordered your favorite again, but you couldn’t remember ever loving this dish. He must have been referring to the time before he brought you to live with him (an incident in which your head was hit very hard).

Hoseok stared at you like he always did, refusing to eat until he saw you take the first bite. He sat with his hands folded, watching you and your hazy mind work through dinnertime. All you had to do was pick up your chopsticks and eat, but something in you could not bring yourself to do so.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Not hungry?”

Whether it was intentional or not, Hoseok’s tone never came out of the woods. He spoke slowly in low tones as if he was always ready to pounce on you. You wondered if he spoke to his employees the same way.

You gingerly picked up your chopsticks.

“You haven’t been eating well lately. Is something wrong?” Hoseok is wringing his hands now. You began to stare back at him.

You remained silent for a long moment before saying clearly, “Yes. I don’t feel well.”

Hoseok clicks his tongue, rising from his seat across from you to sit next to you instead. He rests his hand on yours. Hoseok wasn’t overly affectionate which you were lucky for at the beginning of this relationship, but you now felt touch-starved and undesirable. He held an immense amount of power over you and he knew it too.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he mumbled, placing a palm against your forehead. “You’re not warm. I seriously doubt you’re sick, you never are. Tell me what’s wrong, please.” He leaned in closer.

You held back a huff of frustration, knowing how angry he got when you weren’t his perfect little girl. Hoseok knew exactly how to get under your skin and scare you shitless. If you weren’t careful and deliberate with every motion, every phrase, every word, he would catch on in a heartbeat and do whatever it took to show you he owned you. It only took three days in his basement for you to confess your love for him and start begging to be let out.

You fidgeted nervously, quickly glancing at the front door behind Hoseok. He hadn’t let you out in nearly six months and as much as you loved him, you were beginning to get antsy.

Hoseok was scary, but treated you well. He thoroughly explained on several occasions how much you needed him and how he loved you so deeply that it was in his very nature to keep you protected from the world like this. He even let you free from being chained in his basement after only a couple weeks, which was awesome! Hoseok never called himself your boyfriend, but you figured he was close enough. He fed you when you weren’t being bad and he recited his love for you often. It terrified you when you first met that time you woke up in his basement, but with time you found yourself believing him more and more. This was not living, but you were becoming so far gone from your past that it seemed like perhaps this sheltered life was what you were meant to receive.

Hoseok studied you deeply, noticing immediately how your eyes darted behind him at the front door. He sighed, mentally preparing himself to pull out all the stops to get the idea out of your pretty little head.

“Mm, baby, are you bored? Did you want to go outside?” He smiled a bit, stroking the back of your head and looking at you sweetly.

Immediately, you furrowed your brows and gripped his hand tighter. You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

“You must be tired of being cooped up in the house all day...don’t you want to see what’s out there?”

Hoseok stood up, placing a hand on your back to guide you up as well.

“H-Hobi, I don’t need to. I don’t mind staying inside…” you said bashfully, tugging his hand to lead him back into his chair.

His smile was wide like the Cheshire Cat’s. He reached to hold your face by your chin.

“No, I’m sure you must be going crazy being in here all day. Let’s go outside. Maybe you can run around a bit so your appetite can return.”

You weren’t stupid. You saw from the windows that Hoseok lived in a deep forest and made a lengthy commute each day to the city for his work. Perhaps Hoseok was feeling particularly sadistic today. You had been on your best behavior as of late - you listened well, ate when you didn’t feel ill, wore what he chose for you, told him you loved him and cuddled him and let him kiss you. His obtuseness came completely out of left field. You were the best little girl you could be - it made no sense.

“Hobi, I’m really hungry now. I would like to eat.” By the end of your statement, you were whispering fearfully as he was now leaning in close enough to kiss you.

“Don’t be silly. I saw you looking at the door. Come on,” he tugged you along, bending to tie your shoes for you.

“Hoseok, I really think I should go eat, please. I don’t want to go outside, it’ll be cold and dark and we’re in the forest, pl-”

“You know you want to leave. Don’t you? Wasn’t it only a few weeks ago you were saying you wanted to leave me?”

You’re crying now. “No! Please, I don’t want to leave, I love you, I swear! Hobi, I’ve changed!” Hoseok ignores your cries, pushing you out the front door with a smack on your ass.

“Be back in an hour, sweetheart. I don’t want the wild animals to find you.”

He slammed the door in your face and you began to hyperventilate for a moment. You knew he didn’t retreat from his spot at the door and he could clearly hear your cries. How did just looking at the door for a moment lead to this?

You spent a few minutes on your knees, bawling into your hands on the front porch. The tall forest prematurely made it nightfall at the ground level. After another few minutes, something caught your eye deeper into the woods. You stood slowly, hoping you were correct.

It was a car. A parked red van within walking distance of Hoseok’s house. Your legs moved on their own towards it. You were certain it didn’t belong to Hoseok as you kissed him goodbye from outside his black sedan each day. The drive to get away from Hoseok kicked in like a horse as you began running towards this car, desperate for help or some more information on where in the country the house was. If you were lucky, somebody would be in the car.

You were close enough to read the license plate when a searing pain shot through your leg and burned every cell in your body. You fell forward, coughing up a bit of your stomach after. You screamed for a moment, but then your body stopped taking in air effectively and you were left on the ground like a fish out of water.

You sobbed, desperately searching for a switch or button to release the contraption stuck around your ankle. Just a few yards from the car, chained to a tree was a steel bear trap that you stepped into perfectly. The claws dug well into the flesh on your leg, pouring blood over the forest floor as your heartbeat became erratic. Its jaws were locked far too strongly for you to pry apart. The house was barely visible to you now as the sun set completely and you were utterly stuck by this soccer mom van in the middle of god knows where.

The clock continued to tick as your hour of “freedom” was coming to a close. You wanted to throw up again at the sight of yourself. You nearly called out to Hoseok for help, but restrained yourself quickly. He was right - he always was. He was right for keeping you inside the way he did. You couldn’t even run half a mile into the forest without getting caught in a bear trap. The clinking of metal chains reminded you of your time in Hoseok’s basement and how cold it was and how hungry you became. You were hungry now as well, even through the nausea, and you let out a sad cry as your stomach growled angrily again. If Hoseok ever saved you again, you would eat everything he put in front of you with gusto. You leaned your head against the thick trunk of the tree you were chained to and watched the bugs on the floor crawl by. Your heart twinged as you missed Hoseok after just an hour apart. You felt you were no better than the insects you were watching. 

The pain in your leg was unlike anything you had felt before. You knew it was unrealistic to die from a bear trap, but you felt like you were at the brink. You had long since given up trying to claw the trap apart, stopping when the third of your fingernails split. The blood from your ankle made its way all over the white sweater Hoseok had picked out for you that morning. Hopefully an actual bear would come by and put you out of your misery before Hoseok could come by and chastise you for getting your clothes dirty.

Eventually, you heard his voice through the trees. “Sweetheart!” His voice sang and you panicked at the thought of how angry he would be that you got yourself hurt. You saw a light coming from the direction of your house and you braced yourself to soon be found.

You didn’t have the energy to yell back at him, so you waited for him to find you instead. Hoseok was smarter than you would like to admit and he obviously already knew that you wouldn’t make it far. Yet, he took his sweet, sweet time searching for you.

Eventually, his flashlight landed on your chest and you looked away, nervous to see him. He sighed.

“Oh, baby...look what you did,” he tsked. He stood above you with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. He made a noise of disdain when your lower lip began to tremble. “Hurts, doesn’t it? I would help make it all better, but you’ve been such a bad girl lately. I thought you knew better than to go outside, but I guess you just couldn’t listen to me.”

You covered your mouth to hide your snivelling. “I’m s-so sorry!”

“I know you are, baby. See, if you listen to me and stay inside like a good girl, then these things won’t happen. What am I gonna do with you?” Hoseok bent down to face level with you, still sitting against the tree trunk shivering in immense pain. “I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do, and earlier you sure made it clear that you don’t want to be in my house with me…”

You sobbed, reaching to hold his shoulders. “No! I want to go back home and be with you. I’m sorry for being ungrateful, I just want to be with you!” Hoseok clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Is that really what you want, baby? You really want to come back and live with me?” Hoseok spoke slowly, letting you marinate in the ache of your calf. He knew you loved him. Putting you in solitary confinement for the first two months was more than enough for you to worship the ground he walks on. Some days, he just needed to tease you a little.

“Yes, please. I’m sorry, I’ll never leave you, I swear.” Hoseok stared at you with a smile before taking your face into his hands and kissing you for a long moment.

“Good. Jin-hyung is going to help you with your leg, okay?”

Hoseok fishes in his pockets before pulling out a silver key and unlocking the chains around the tree.

“Wow, baby, you must have really run into this trap for it to have closed on you so hard...we better take it out in the house.”

You stared at him in shock. “This...this trap was yours?” Hoseok smoothed the top of your head.

“Everything on this land is mine,” he hissed with a sweet smile. 

“B-but, I’ve never seen you drive this car. And why do you have bear traps!? You don’t hunt, Hoseok!” You are steadily becoming more hysterical and Hoseok sighs, hugging you to him. You holler at the pain of him shifting your leg.

“Baby, this is Jungkook’s car. You remember him, right? He’s taking his fianceè to Busan soon and they’ll need a car to hold their kids someday. He’s keeping it here because his apartment only gives him one parking space.” Hoseok kisses your cheek, rubbing your back when your crying intensifies. Ah, he’ll need to bring you back home soon before you lose too much blood. “You can understand that, can’t you?”

Hyperventilating on top of a foot caught in a bear trap had you lightheaded. You rested your cheek against Hoseok’s shoulder. “How am I supposed to get this off my foot?” You sobbed.

Hoseok cooed, rubbing your back a little harder. “I thought you knew what’s best for yourself...since you’re such a big girl and you always take ca-”

You cut him off with a wail. “Hoseok, please help me! I’ll die here, please!” He hissed at your yelling on his shoulder.

“Shh, stop that! Ah, I guess I can try and help you get back to the house. I thought you didn’t need someone like me…” Hoseok got started on unchaining the trap.

“No, I-I do need you! I’m sorry, I’ll never act out again…” you mumbled ashamedly. Hoseok heaved you up with a pained scream from you. He kissed your cheek in a lame attempt to calm you.

“Yeah? Are you going to be my good girl and stay inside the house?”

You cried a bit harder when he said this, remembering how you bawled on his front steps after he shut the door on you.

“Yes, I promise,” you whimpered.

“Good. Jin-hyung will be here in an hour to help fix you. Shh, don’t cry, I know it’s a long time,” he whispered to you. You cried all the way to the house and all the way down the concrete stairs to Hoseok’s basement.

“I don’t like it here, Hobi, please...can’t we go somewhere else?” Hoseok calmed your weeping by playing with your hair.

“This is what’s best. I’m here with you, my love...remember I love you so much.” He kissed your forehead softly. “We’ll get you out of this mess.”

You wrapped your hands around the sheets of the bed Hoseok placed you on and writhed in agony.

“It hurts,” you mumbled, still crying softly.

Hoseok cooed, “Aw, my baby…”

The anger within you began to rise like a tidal wave. Perhaps it was being back in this bed under Hoseok’s house, or perhaps you were finally understanding the lengths Hoseok would go to in order to claim you. The throbbing in your ankle aligned with a new throbbing in your head. Hoseok lay with you on the bed you woke up chained to all those months ago when he first took you. It took three strokes to the top of our head for you to snap.

“You did this to me,” you whispered, turning your face away from him.

Hoseok stopped stroking your hair as if he had just been doused with cold water.

“Huh? Say that again for me, baby, I didn’t quite hear you.” Hoseok tangled his fingers in your hair. You braced yourself for a harsh tug.

“This is your trap. I didn’t even want to go outside. I wasn’t even being bad.”

You didn’t force yourself to look at him as you spoke. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had stood up to him...was it recent? Wasn’t it during those first three days in his basement? It felt like a dream.

“I’ve been perfect these last few months. You kidnapped me yet I have been perfect for you! I didn’t deserve this!” You were steadily becoming hysterical. It felt good to let yourself become unraveled after weeks of living complacently in his clutch. Hoseok still hadn’t said anything, still keeping his hand gently against your scalp.

“How could you do this to me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me and you put me in a bear trap for what? Not eating my dinner? I didn’t eat because you make me sick!”

At this point, Hoseok began calmly rising from the bed and making his way over to your trapped foot. You barely noticed, too wound up in your angry rant. You didn’t care anymore. There was just no right way to be Hoseok’s victim, and there was no hope for escape either. You were surrounded by miles of forest and the only communication with other humans was Hoseok’s equally repulsive friends and two of them were moving across the country soon. You envied them and their stupid red van and happy little life. You had only met Jungkook and his fiancèe once, but they seemed to love each other deeply. You once wished for something like that, at least before Hoseok came into your life.

“You stupid motherfucker! Piece of shit! Fix my fucking leg, you asshole!” Hoseok watched you yell with blank eyes before cracking a slight smile. He chuckled, adoring the way your tongue was so sharp.

“Are you done, sweetie?” He massaged your calves. The pain in your foot almost felt as hot as the rage bubbling through your veins at the moment.

“You’re going to burn in hell for what you’ve done to me. Son of the devil,” you hissed.

Hoseok grinned wordlessly again before placing his hands on both sides of the bear trap and releasing its jaws with a manly grunt. A scream ripped through you, dying into dry sobs after a moment. You supposed it was good that he did it when you were furious and the adrenaline was pushing you off the edge.

Hoseok was panting heavily. “Baby, did you know that some animals gnaw their own limbs off to free themselves from bear traps?” You watched with a glare as he fiddled with the contraption. You prayed that he would be offended enough to just kill you already. “I haven’t seen it happen myself. Some hunters find bear traps inhumane for that very reason. I understand. The animal has done no wrong, correct?” The shoddy lighting of his basement cast a shadow over his face.

“I can’t imagine how it would feel to be so helpless like that...so scared and alone...you must have felt that way back in that forest, huh? Baby?” You refused to entertain him any longer. Hoseok was being oddly soft-spoken and gentle with his tone. It wasn’t often that he brought out this voice.

“You must be so upset, huh? Scared, maybe even suicidal. You might even feel like a lost cause.” The trap snapped back into its original open position with a clang. “I’ve never viewed you that way. All I’ve ever seen you as was my perfect girl, even when you weren’t being so good. I never lost hope in you. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to snap out of it and love me too and fucking mean it.” His tone turned angry for a second, but he quickly shut it down. You stared at how he held the open trap with such expertise.

“You might think you were being so careful and good, but I see right through you. I just know you so well, baby. I knew deep down, there was still a part of you that defied me, even though I just wanted you to be your best self. I knew there was still some part of you left for me to crack apart and mold to include me with it.”

You were much more dizzy now.

“I’m doing this for your own good. So we can be happy together.”

You caught on with a start, sitting up quickly. You couldn’t even get one word out before Hoseok swiftly grabbed your good foot with a heavy hand and positioned it on the plate of the open trap. He jumped back, successfully evading the teeth of the trap which were now clamped around your other foot.

You let out a gut-wrenching scream. Not only did you scream from the pain of the bear trap, but also from the pain of the cold basement, the pain of the thick woods that surrounded the house. Hoseok watched you thrash on the bed as if you were possessed. Both of your ankles poured out blood and soiled the white bed sheets you lay on.

“Honey, be careful! Look at what happened to the sheets,” he tsked. “Ah, look at what you’ve done. How did my silly girl manage to get caught into two traps in one day? What am I gonna do with you?”

You began bawling again as Hoseok remained standing over you. His voice remained sickly sweet and you found yourself yearning for him to taunt you with his usual nasty tone.

“I want to die,” you weep. Hoseok seemed affected by this for a second before reverting back to his calm stance.

He silently came back around the bed, placing a kiss on your forehead once more before making his way up the concrete stairs. You thought about calling out to him for a moment, but ultimately decided not to. Hoseok shut the door behind him, not bothering to lock it. You wouldn’t be able to walk anyway. He made his way to the kitchen, stretching as he did so, and opened a cabinet in search of some tea. Your cries were barely audible over the hum of the microwave heating his water.

[goodomensblog]

Parched

This one is for lovely Emily! ( @sunshineandchemistry )

Happy Birthday you beautiful effervescent pineapple! I hope you are having the BEST birthday aaaand I hope that a little bit of ineffable husbands kissing will make it all the better.

Parched

Seventeen days, twenty hours and eleven minutes after the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t, an angel and demon, following a luxurious dinner at Le Gavroche, stroll along a crowded London promenade, their hands intertwined. 

For Crowley, strolling with the sunset sky bleeding pastel and their interlocked hands swinging between them, it is impossible to conceal the bounce in his step - nor does he try. And it is only his dark glasses, perched diligently on the bridge of his nose, that stand between his pleasure-creased gaze and outright discovery.

As they arrive back at Crowley’s apartment, the demon holds open the door. Once inside, Crowley shrugs out of his jacket and then helps Aziraphale with his coat. As the angel settles, Crowley procures a bottle of wine, and it really is shaping up to be an excellent evening when -

“Crowley, my dear. You never told me you had a collection of poetry!”

Crowley’s arm snaps back, and he forcefully wrenches the cork free of the bottle. It bounces across his immaculate kitchen.

Aziraphale is kneeling in front of the exposed stash of poetry, and with his hands braced on his knees and his lips pursed in interest, he appears positively delighted by the discovery.

Crowley, is decidedly less so.

Because Crowley, owner of said poetry, failed to properly conceal the cache of contraband verses within their designated cupboard prior to Aziraphale’s arrival;  and so, at the sight of Aziraphale kneeling in front of his very best kept secret, Crowley pours himself a brimming glass of wine.

It’s not that he’s ashamed of the poetry collection. They are quality works. He is of course, a demon of impeccable taste. 

But he does have a certain image to maintain. 

Sure, he’s not technically speaking, working for Hell these days. But he is a demon, and they generally don’t go around waxing poetic. 

And they especially do not collect The Art of Pining: 101 Love Poems by Pablo Neruda. 

Taking a deep swig of wine, Crowley props his hip against the counter and slouches into a rather elaborate shrug. 

“They’re, er, not mine.”

Aziraphale pauses in brushing his fingers over aged spines. Arching a brow, the angel conveys, without using a single word, that he believes Crowley to be rather full of shit.

“I mean,” Crowley starts, stammering, “I uh, stole them?”

“From whom?”

“I - er, a sweet old lady. Was a dastardly business, angel.”

“Honestly, dear.”

“Fine. I didn’t steal them. But I didn’t go out collecting them either! They were gifts angel. You of all people should know it’s rude to refuse a gift.”

Crowley is prepared to go on - about how he had sent the thank you notes weeks later than was polite - but Aziraphale is no longer listening. He’s already turned back to the shelf and is, once more, running reverent fingers over knobbly spines. Plucking one from the shelf, he flips through the pages. It’s a Shakespeare.

Swallowing the rest of his wine, Crowley miracles the glass full and stalks around to the bookshelf.

The collection is comprised largely of gifts. They had been sent in thanks for the sizable donations made in support of the various poets. Despite its reputation, Crowley had always thought poetry, at heart, to be an incredibly demonic endeavor. Yeah, sure, it’s beautiful, but there’s no rule that says demonic traits can’t be beautiful. And besides, some poetry is so beautiful, the writing and reading of it has been known to stir up all kinds of impulses. Not all of them good. Just ask Byron. 

Crowley decides that he is going to tell Aziraphale exactly this, when the unimaginable happens. 

The angel is pulling an aged collection of T.S. Elliot’s poetry from the shelf, when a single leaf of paper slips from the pages, flips once, and flutters down, onto his lap.

The tea-yellow page is vaguely familiar, and taking a fortifying sip of wine, Crowley bends, peering over Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

As Aziraphale’s curious fingers unfold the page, the memory of precisely what the page is strikes Crowley with all the force of a freight train fueled by Hellfire.

A half empty bottle of wine lingers, forgotten on his desk. Wrinkled papers crowd the surface, and ink spots sprinkle polished wood. Amidst it all, Crowley sits, hair mussed and tongue pressing between his lips as he glares down at ink smeared words. It is 1863 and the last time he’d seen Aziraphale, it had been at St. James’ Park. They’d argued. Thunder clouds had gathered on the horizon and it smelled of rain, but even so, the sun had played about Aziraphale’s hair, catching the blue in his eyes - and so Crowley scribbles on the page, because if Shakespeare and Dickinson and Byron could do it, surely he can; because he feels too bloody much and it hurts because Aziraphale is gone and not talking to him, and Crowley loves, he loves-

Crowley glimpses smeared ink, and knows with a sudden, intense clarity, exactly the manner of writing the angel will discover on that page.

Red wine pours, like a waterfall, from the glass dangling loose in Crowley’s grasp.

Yelping, Aziraphale scrambles back, barely avoiding the splatter of red.

Glancing incredulously between Crowley and the pooling wine, Aziraphale purses his lips, and with a curt gesture, miracles the spreading puddle back into the bottle.

“Really, Crowley. Sober up a bit, darling. You’re making a mess.”

“M’not drunk.”

For the second time that evening, Aziraphale treats him to the look.

“Really, I was just, uh,” Crowley sets the empty glass aside and folds his arms, attempting to look as though he’s not seconds away from discorporating from sheer mortification. “What’ve you got there? Can I have it?”

Aziraphale looks from the innocuously folded page to Crowley, and then back to the page. Curiosity is settling into the angel’s bright blue gaze, and Crowley's stomach turns over.

“...what is it?”

“Nothing. Just old stuff. Trash, basically. Might as well get rid of it,” Crowley says, and presses thumb and middle finger together to banish the humiliating creation for good.

Aziraphale is faster.

With a single blink, Aziraphale and the paper wink out of existence. They reappear on the other side of the room. Aziraphale is seated in Crowley’s overlarge desk chair and the paper is open on the desk. With a snap, the angel’s reading glasses materialize on his face, and when he glances down, his eyes go wide and bright.

“I had no idea you wrote, Crowley!”

Crowley is across the room before Aziraphale can so much as take a second glance at the page. He slaps a hand over the paper. 

As if drawn by the movement, Aziraphale’s eyes flick down, and they are automatically tracing the first line -

“Aziraphale, stop!”

It comes out choked, and there is no concealing the raw edge of panic in his tone.

Aziraphale jerks back, retracting his hand as if burned. 

Snatching up the page, Crowley clutches it, pressing it to his chest. And the room sinks into a heavy, uncomfortable silence.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says at last, gently breaking the quiet. 

Crowley can feel the angel studying him, taking in his tense shoulders, pale countenance, and white-knuckled hands clutching at the paper.

“Oh, darling,” Aziraphale murmurs, guilt heavy in his voice, “I didn’t mean - oh, I shouldn’t have. It’s yours. And it’s clearly private. I hardly saw anything, I promise. And I won’t attempt to read any further.”

And then Aziraphale is rising from the chair, circling the desk. Crowley blinks and careful hands are brushing up his arms. Relaxing at the touch is as simple as breathing; dipping his head, Crowley leans into it.

The apocalypse has come and gone. They survived it. And then survived the wrath of both Heaven and Hell which came immediately after. And now, against all odds - in a twist of fate Crowley hadn’t dared to dream of, he and Aziraphale have a life together. A life where touches like this are allowed. 

And with Aziraphale there, knuckles gently tracing the backs of Crowley’s hands as whispered apologies and assurances blend together into a single soothing murmur, Crowley comes to the abrupt and startling realization that he is acting like a twat.

“Forgive me,” Aziraphale says, soft fingers brushing over Crowley’s clenched hands.

Crowley’s fists unclench, and Aziraphale’s fingers immediately tangle with his own.

“Nothing to forgive, angel,” Crowley replies, running fumbling thumbs over the backs of Aziraphale’s hands.

And he is being foolish, because this is Aziraphale. They shared bodies for someone’s sake. After all that, sharing a bit of poetry should be a simple thing.

“It’s, ah, it’s okay,” Crowley finally manages. “Just - let me read it to you, yeah? A bit easier for me that way.”

Aziraphale pulls back, his concerned gaze tracing Crowley’s expression. 

“Really, you don’t have to do anything you don’t-”

“I want to,” Crowley interrupts. Against his chest, the paper feels warm - and he has to glance to check he hasn’t accidentally set it ablaze. “Just...take a seat?”

Aziraphale does. Folding his hands in his lap, he perches in Crowley’s high-backed chair.

Swallowing once, Crowley glances over the paper. How many times has he imagined reading this very page to Aziraphale? Of course, in his fantasies, they both wore gilded doublets and elegant ruffs - and Crowley often pictured himself delivering the poetry in a verdant, flowering garden, with Aziraphale listening, enraptured, from a moonlit balcony above.

But this works too.

Rubbing his uncomfortably moist palms on his pants, Crowley grimaces, glancing up.

“Dear, if this is too stressful-”

“It’s fine, just - the poem - it’s, um, about you.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale says, and leans back, cheeks pink.

Smoothing the abused paper, Crowley takes a fortifying look at Aziraphale, and begins.

“I dreamt, once,” he starts, and hesitates, shifting his weight between his feet. He can feel his heartbeat - which, physiologically speaking, he doesn’t strictly need - a staccato rhythm against his ribs.

A glance up -

Aziraphale waits, hands folded in his lap. His lips curve in a gentle, patient smile.

It’s just a poem, Crowley reasons. And besides, with Aziraphale right here, looking at him - smiling - it is ridiculous to be afraid.

Clearing his throat, he begins again.

-

“I dreamt, once

I was earth - summer dry,

Parched

And you, my heart,

An afternoon storm.”

-

Golden eyes flick up. A nervous tongue brushes dry lips.

-

“Lush drops,

Cut summer soft air

Striking earth

As I shed dust and drank in

Your every inch.

-

And if you were the gale,

I was the grass

Shivering

As I waited

Wanting.”

-

Crowley can feel Azirphale’s gaze, a prickling pressure, but he won’t look up from the page. If he stops, he fears he may not have enough courage to again start.

-

“And you, darling,

Rent the very air

Electric 

Engulfing earth, 

Me,

Everything

Everything.

-

Alone,

I woke

In a bed too large

With thunder groaning

And rain 

Pattering on the window 

Soft as you.”

-

He finishes, his voice little more than a croak.

Aziraphale rises from the chair.

Lowering the poem, Crowley presses his lips together, and nods once, looking at the floor. “It wasn’t much, I know. Not really much of a poet-”

Aziraphale interrupts him with a kiss.

“Hush,” Aziraphale says, kissing the frown from his lips. “It was lovely. You are lovely, my dear.”

Laid bare before the angel, Crowley feels reduced to his origins - a scattered constellation of fractured, burning lights. And yet, here, in Aziraphale’s warm, gentle arms, he is pulled together; made whole. 

When Aziraphale’s hands rise to cup Crowley’s face, the poem slips through his fingers. As they kiss, Crowley shifts a hand to Aziraphale’s back; and when he carefully presses Aziraphale against the desk, he makes sure his hand is between the hard edge and Aziraphale’s back.

Crowley kisses the corner of his mouth, the edge of his jaw, and then a slow, lingering path down the angel’s neck.

“You do remember that we confessed to, ah, a rather mutual love in the days following the whole Tadfield business. You really needn’t be embarrassed by - ah, um, a bit of poetry, dear.”

Bending, Crowley presses his face into the curve between Aziraphale’s shoulder and neck and admits, “...wrote it after that day in St. James’ Park. You know, the fight. Hadn’t seen you in quite a while and I,” he heaves a breath, “really missed you.”

“Oh my dear,” Aziraphale says, voice soft as a caress. And then fingers are stroking up Crowley’s neck, brushing soothing trails through his hair. “You weren’t the only one who spent a good few decades pining away.”

Sighing against Aziraphale’s skin, Crowley parts his lips and presses a delicate kiss against the freckles nestled in curve of his neck. “Worked out in the end, at least.”

“I daresay it did. And I learned you are quite the poet.”

Crowley presses a hand up over Aziraphale’s mouth. “Shh..”

Aziraphale chuckles and brushes feather-soft kisses against his fingers. “As I said before, dear - it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Retracing his way back up Aziraphale’s neck, Crowley mutters, “I’m a demon. Demons don’t wax poetic.”

“Oh they most certainly do. Have you ever listened to yourself speak?”

“Angel,” Crowley murmurs, kissing a path from Aziraphale’s jaw to his softly parted lips.

“Just, ah -”

Crowley hesitates, fingers stroking over Aziraphale’s waist.

“I’d like to hear it. Again,” Aziraphale says.

Crowley’s eyes flick up.

“Your poem.”

As Aziraphale reaches for the dropped page, Crowley grasps his hand. Massaging circles into his angel’s palm, Crowley brushes his lips over Aziraphale’s cheek. 

“I dreamt, once, I was earth. Parched...”

- - - - - - - - -

I am NOT a poet and probably severely overextended my writing abilities attempting to create the poem for this. I sincerely hope it is not embarrassingly bad, and if it is - maybe all of the kissing made up for it? :D

[prose-for-hire]

Silver bullets have nothing on you

Pairing: Cordelia Chase x fem!werewolf!reader

Request: thank you! could i please have one where reader is Cordy’s ex and she transfers to sunnydale. buffy doesnt like her because she thinks shes a Vamp but actually secretly shes a werewolf! Thank you! i love ur work

Warning: Violence. Buffy doesn’t really get on with reader. Reader is ashamed of being a werewolf. Blood mention.

A/N: Reader is Cordy’s ex but there are feelings still there. A little angst but hopeful at the end. Another fic in honour of Cordelia Chase Appreciation week !! 💖

You had transferred to Sunnydale, unaware that the ex you were still hung up on basically ran the school. You had met her one summer, her father had a business meeting in your town and they had stayed for a long weekend. You had tried to stay in touch, keep things long-distance but she had broken things off with you when she thought you started to become distant with her. She thought you had gone off her and she was really hurt by it, having to coldly break up with you to make herself feel better than the rejection she felt.

But, you weren’t pulling away from her because you wanted to. You had a secret. You loved this girl too much to inflict it on her. It was a lot to take in. Most people didn’t believe in demons and you didn’t want her to have to find out if she didn’t need to.

 The first evening you arrived, you bumped into a blonde girl. You managed to bump into her several times, always in the dark, since then. The girl, who happened to be a slayer, took an instant dislike to you. She was suspicious. You weren’t quite human, something inside her told her this. You shied away from her when you heard whispers of slayer in your mind. Something within, call it self-preservation or animal instinct told you to avoid her as much as you could.

This was hard, however because she appeared when you least expected her - always after dark as if she was waiting for you to grow fur and start gnawing on the nearest teenager. It made you paranoid, the condition already hard enough to prepare for when a full moon was coming let alone feeling like the Slayer was ready to pounce on you.

One night, you were at the bronze. You were sitting alone, as you had been most evenings with very little to do in town. Your thoughts cast back to her. Cordelia. The most beautiful and kindest person you had ever met. You had hoped you might catch a glimpse of her (you knew she lived in Sunnydale, after all) buy knew it was probably the best thing for her that you hadn’t. You were relieved she had broken up with you in some way, because it meant she had saved herself from the possibility of you hurting her in some way.

You didn’t realise that on the other side of the Bronze, there was someone in the same predicament. Her. She was thinking about you, staring into space and sighing. She missed your touch. The way your lips felt against her skin. The conversations you would have that often ended in uncontrollable laughter. She wanted you back. She had even started to come out to the Scoobies and people she was closest to because she wanted to be long term with you.

But now she was mad at you. For avoiding her. Ignoring her calls. But mostly she just wanted you back. Her heart was in pieces and no amount of popular guys her superficial friends set her up with could compare to you. You were the girl of her dreams. Literally - she kept having these dreams. Dreams that you were back together again and she was holding you against her. Inhaling your scent. Whispering such intimate things. 

You had transferred to Sunnydale High school and had started your classes (when you managed to find the correct rooms) but Buffy Summers had only ever seen you at night - leading her to confirm her own suspicions based on this. She thought you were a vampire. She made you uncomfortable and she always appeared to be glaring at you, no matter where either of you were in the room.

Tonight, there was a man sat beside you. His complexion porcelain white and he dressed like he was stuck in the 1970s. He suddenly slung his arm around you and you scowled, pulling away. But he whispered something persuading you to walk away with him. You had no choice, he was very strong. He had a strong hand on your arm and he was telling you to act normal as he walked you through the crowd and swiftly out of the door.

Buffy caught your eye, missing your pleading look. Instead seeing the kind of person you spent time with and decided this was one battle that wasn’t worth fighting tonight. She wanted some time off she would deal with you and your friend later. This meant that you were alone, with a vampire, that wanted to sire you. Your brain was rattling against your skull, wanting to jump ship before the inevitable. Death.

When he was satisfied he had found somewhere you wouldn’t be interrupted, he slammed you against the wall and held you in place. You shivered and it wasn’t the cold. You were scared. You had so many things you wanted to do with your life. You wanted to graduate. You wanted to be the first person to discover the cure for being a werewolf. You wanted to cling to the idea that you and Cordy would get back together one day.

But all of these hopes were draining out of your brain, quicker than the blood would be drained from your neck. Instead, only fear remained. You cursed yourself, not wanting this to be the last thing you felt before death. Wasn’t your life supposed to flash before you? All you could think was that you wanted to see Cordy’s face one last time before you died. You would take any moment, so long as it was her.

The vampire grinned at you, toying with you and giving you the impression you had room to struggle. But he had you exactly where he wanted you. You were struggling until he stilled you, pinning your arms by your side. He moved to get a better view of your neck, his face shifted and you braced yourself as he moved in to bite.

You finally saw it. Her face. You could die happy, having seen her face again. Your vision started to go fuzzy, but the picture of her was now imprinted in your brain. You desperately tried to cling onto the image as you felt the fangs retract from your neck and ignore the pain that was coursing through you.

“Urgh!” He spluttered, starting to spit out the blood that had been oozing from your neck, “What is that - you taste like... dog” he started to wipe his mouth off in disgust. It snapped you out of your submission especially as the face you had seen wasn’t something your brain had conjured up. It really was her.

She had been looking for some kind of weapon to use ever so quietly as he took the first bite. She had since grabbed a metal pipe and as forcefully as she could, hit him over the head with it. She instantly dropped it, her fierceness appearing because it was you. Because she couldn’t bear to see anything happen to you. She appeared to be running on adrenaline.

“Pack up, princess” the vampire warned, baring his teeth and trying to get her to leave. You clutched at the wound on your neck as you watched the exchange.

“Leave. Now. I’m the biggest bitch that Sunnydale high has ever seen and that means a whole lot of pain for you” She said, but her voice faltered at the end. She had only ever staked one vampire and it had been a total fluke. But she wanted to make sure you were safe. She was so confused when she saw you leaving the Bronze, she had to follow you to convince herself you weren’t a trick of the eye. 

“Two for the price of one” The vampire shrugged, clearly unmoved by Cordy’s threat. He went straight for Cordelia and you grabbed him, twisting his arm and managing to push him to the floor. You had the upper hand only because he (and you) hadn’t realised the strength you possessed. 

You were confused, standing still with your brows knitted together. Blood running down your side. This allowed him to gain the upper hand again. He sprung up as you were in awe of your own strength as he started to round on you, his fangs bared. You felt a rumble in your chest, as if you wanted to growl. It was a dull ache, like when your tummy rumbles except in your chest.

Out of nowhere, Cordy broke off some wood and while he had his back turned, she managed to stake him. She ran through the dust, to your side and checked over the wound that was already slowly closing itself up. Your mouth had widened in shock at how easily she appeared to roll with everything. She moved a hand to softly rest under your chin as if to close your mouth that was still open in confusion. How did she know about vampires?

The next evening, you had met at the Bronze. You had a lot of catching up to do. You wore something to hide your neck as you had no way to explain how your wound had already healed. She had started to tell you about hanging around the slayer, how she had never mentioned it because she didn’t want to have you worrying about that. She really cared for you and she was very protective. This hadn’t stopped despite you no longer being her girlfriend. 

Talking to her was so easy, you both smiled over at each other and shared anecdotes you had been saving in hope that one day you would be able to speak the way you used to. Your legs brushing against each other under the table, making you both smile every time that they did.

Every so often you opened your mouth, trying to find a way to tell her what had happened to you. What you were now. How you had become a werewolf. But every time you open your mouth you just can’t do it. You were so scared of rejection. You didn’t want her to think you were some monster. You were still you.

You were scared she would hate you. Find you unlovable for something you couldn’t change. The conversation stopped flowing so easily as you found yourself more caught up inside your head. She noticed you had started to become distant - staring off into space again. She clicked her fingers in front of your face more than once and decided that it was probably time to call it a night. She asked if you would take her home and you nod, agreeing to walk with her. It was the least you could do after she saved your life.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Buffy saw you escorting Cordy out and felt a sense of duty she was sadly lacking when a stranger was taking you for a bite the other week. She followed you both a safe distance from the Bronze and then started to attack you. She spun you around, landing a hard blow against your face which made you cry out and clutch your face.

“Ow! What is your problem!?” You snarl at her as she raises an eyebrow waiting for your forehead to shift and confirm her suspicions. When it had almost been a solid minute of staring in silence, Buffy still didn’t back down.

“I know what you are” 

“I- I don’t-”

“You’re a vampire. I’m the Slayer. Together, we’re a match made in Hell” Buffy started to punch you again, but you were more ready this time. Your arm came up instinctively to block her curled fist but nothing connected with your body. Cordelia had stepped in front of you. Her arms crossed. There was no way that someone with that hairstyle was going to be beating up the girl she cared for.

“I’m not a vampire!” you said from behind Cordy.

“Buffy, God, not everything is about you! This is y/n she’s just transferred from-” she started to introduce you but Buffy had to be tough. It was her job. She couldn’t just take your word for it and let you go.

“Move, Cor, or I will move you” Buffy warned. Cordelia was getting on her nerves. First she didn’t believe Angel was a vampire and now you. 

“Just... do what she says” You mutter as she swung around, eyes wide. As if you had just grown a second head. She decided this must mean you are a vampire. 

“When?” she whispered but there was no time to reply. Buffy was attacking you so quickly all you had to do was blink and she had already left several bruises starting to form on your skin. You could handle yourself on instinct for the most part, but trying to win a fight against a slayer? You had no chance. 

You managed to block a few moves but you were lacking on offensive blows. She was just too fast for you. She eventually knocked your feet from under you, your brain taking time to catch up to where you were now in a heap on the floor. She stepped over you with Cordelia screaming and trying to hold Buffy back. Buffy had a wooden stake now as she crouched next to you, the pointed end of the wood starting to become increasingly uncomfortable as it dug into your chest.

“I’m a werewolf! I’m a werewolf!” You shouted, putting your hands up in surrender, “I’m no threat, unless you find me on a full moon! Please don’t put that through my chest!” you plead, pride no longer a worry. Fear of rejection now further down on the immediate list of threats. You let your mouth say whatever it wanted so long as it would get that massive splinter away from your precious heart. You weren’t a vampire, but you were pretty sure a massive object stabbed through your heart wasn’t going to be very healthy.

Buffy paused and you knew she would expect you to prove it in some way, “Look” You mutter, grabbing at the cross that was hanging around her neck as you proved to her that your hand wasn’t starting to steam. 

Cordelia’s face was a picture of shock. She had known you weren’t a vampire and hadn’t been sure why Buffy had gone totally psycho (her words). But this? It all made perfect sense now. The secrecy. The way you went missing for those three days every month - she knew it couldn’t have been camping. What a bad excuse. But it didn’t make it any less of a shock to hear.

Buffy mutters an apology getting up and leaving, knowing this wasn’t her conversation to have. She stared at you for a second where you were still sat on the floor after you had been knocked down pleading for your life. Then she left just as abruptly as she had stormed in.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” she exploded, clearly mad that all of this - losing you, feeling so distant from you was down to this. To your shame. You hadn’t even wanted to admit it until you were two seconds away from death.

“I didn’t want you to... hate me” You said softly, “I mean it. Silver bullets have nothing on you - on the pain that I would feel from losing you because of what I am...” you sniffed, looking into the distance rather than at her disappointed face.

“You could have died! That’s way worse” The pitch of her voice climbing several octaves in disbelief. She didn’t think hiding this was worth almost dying over and she told you about it. You squinted at her, she didn’t seem to be cowering from you in fear or not being able to look at you in disgust.

She just appeared to be exasperated that you hadn’t told her something apparently so mundane to her now she knew about demons. She offered a hand to help you up and you took it gladly. 

The smile you shared, knowing that you both cared for the other filled you up with hope. Your body glowing from head-to-toe with the possibilities that came with her acceptance. You walked slowly, the moon lit your path as you walked home together.

Maybe you could face the full moon, with her by your side.

[dreamingofmilk]

What's Your Name?

Synopsis: You forgot to change your name at work after you got married. Sam will make sure you never forget again.

Word Count : 2,079

Warnings: smut, cursing

You walked into your home, extremely tired from your long day at work. Your feet hurt from wearing the pumps you knew not to wear, but you had important meetings all day. And you were hungry from skipping lunch, but you had to work through it or you would have gotten nowhere in the endless amount of paperwork your assistant kept handing you from the other directors.

You glanced at the briefcase you held in your right hand and sighed. You should have stayed at the office to finish your work up, but you couldn’t stand the idea of spending another night away from your husband. Especially when he just told you that he got another job out in Atlanta for a new movie he was filming. He was leaving to start filming in a week. You missed Sam way too much when he left for work, but you knew he loved what he did. And he always flew you out whenever he had to be away for long periods of time.

You thought of the nights when you traveled to meet Sam in another city. He’d have you covered in hickies and have you limping the entire visit. You felt so embarrassed when you went out to meet his costars like that and you loved it. You decided to change your clothes before you got to work in the home office, especially since the thoughts of your husband effectively ruined your panties. You loved your husband, the two of you just married about six months ago and it felt like the honeymoon phase was never-ending. Your husband was kind, sweet, supportive, and demanding, and you loved him the way he was. He was very no-nonsense when it came to you, he wanted to ensure that you were always taken care of, just like you took care of him.

When the two of you got married he wanted the world to know who you belonged to and what your new name was. Your voice was hoarse the day after your wedding from screaming Mrs. Wilson over and over again while riding him. Yup. You definitely needed to change your panties.

************************

You poured over the work in front of you. Piles and piles of paperwork were stacked up in front of you. You heard your husband enter your home. His keys jingling in his hands.

“Babe, I’m home.” Sam shouted into the home.

“Okay. I’m in the office.” You responded, your body overly sensitive just knowing your husband was home. You felt a happy vibration soar through you. You wanted to jump up and attack his soft beard and high cheekbones with kisses. But you couldn’t afford any breaks. You needed to get the work done and focus on signing the paperwork, going over reports, and emailing the correct people. It didn’t matter how good your man looked coming in all sweaty from the gym after working out with his trainer.

And damn did he look good.

Sam stood in the doorway watching you work hard. The multitasking you were capable of always turned him on. He licked his lips as he thought of giving you head while you continued to work hard.

“What are you working on today?” Sam approached you slowly, he knew you needed to work but he also knew that he missed you like crazy. And being the newlyweds that you were, he never planned on getting out of the honeymoon phase.

“The new merger. They put me in charge of overseeing the merger of the new company. But I found out today that they plan on firing my assistant, whom I love. They just don’t understand what all Angelique does. She has so much work on her plate that she needs an assistant herself. I threatened to not do the new merger if they fired her, and they told me to hire another assistant to help Angelique and complete the merger paperwork. So I have to find a new assistant on Tuesday. Babe. It's Thursday, I’m so exhausted.”

“You already know my solution.”Sam started the age-old conversation that always turned into a heated argument and from there passionate sex. Which may be his end goal after all.

“Do not start that shit again Wilson. I’m too tired to have this argument with you today. I’m not quitting my job until we are with child. And as much as you tried last week. I checked this morning, I’m still not pregnant.” Your voice was firm, you couldn’t focus on him and your work. As much as Sam praised you for being the best multitasker he knows, he’s a distraction you can’t work around. No matter how hard you tried.

“Alright. It’s just I hate seeing you overwhelmed like this. Especially knowing I can provide for you. And I know! I know.” He uttered before you could cut him off. “I know you can provide for yourself. I’m your husband. I just really like the idea of taking care of you.” Sam smiled and took another step towards you. His eyes caught sight of the truly insurmountable papers on your desk.

A few of the papers held his attention. “Babe?” Sam picked up the piece of paper, staring at it curiously.

You glanced at him annoyance and confusion etched onto your face. “What Sam?”

Sam stared at the paper then bit his bottom lip. He debated saying anything wanting to avoid sounding like a chauvinist. But you knew the type of man he was when you married him.

“Stop biting your lip before I bite it for you.” You joked looking at your husband’s face. The smile falling off your face, you realized immediately that was the wrong thing to say at the moment. Sam bent down, bracing his hands on the armrests of your chair, his lips less than an inch away from yours. He gently placed a few of your papers in your lap. You eyed them warily.

“What’s this about?” Sam’s voice was hard and unmoving. You looked at the line he was pointing at.

“It’s my nam-” You cut yourself off. You realized the mistake that you made. You’d yet to change your name at work. Mainly because the certification that you held required so much work to get your name changed there. But once you did the work to change your maiden name your job would readily change your paperwork for you. But because of legal reasons they could not change your name on the paperwork until the certification commission changed your name.

“Shit Sam, I forgot.” You responded quietly. Sam made it clear that he loved you having his last name and he wanted everyone else to know that he was the one that got you. That you agreed to marry him and take on his name, you were the one he chose to help carry on his name. “I have to call the people and fax over the government papers stating that my name has changed.” You gently scratched at his beard. “I’m sorry baby. It really slipped my mind.

“You forgot?” He asked incredulously. His face scrunched up in confusion. “You forgot what your name was? What it has been for the past 6 months. What it was going to be for the past 2 and a half years?” Sam hadn’t moved an inch from his bent position. His eyes staring unflinchingly into yours. A smile broke out across his face.

“Cool.”

“Cool?” You smiled nervously, your eyes searched his for confirmation that everything was okay.

“Yeah… cool.”

You eyed Sam warily, he never seemed like the type of person to let this go so casually. He always said he was a traditional man, you knew it was a stretch that you still worked.

“Come on.” He stood up and held a hand out to you.

“Where are we going?” You grabbed his hand and allowed him to hoist you up into his arms. His hands tightly grasping at your ass, his strength easily allowing you to be hoisted into the air.

“To remind you what your name is.” Sam pressed your clit against his erection as he made his way to the bedroom. Your eyes flashed wide open in surprise. Your mind flooded with memories of what happened the last time Sam wanted you to know your name. You began to wiggle in Sam’s arms.

“Hold on!” You tried to get out of his hold before he was able to shut the bedroom door. But it was too late. “Wait Sam. I’ll do it on Monday I promise.” You cooed, you gave him puppy dog eyes. Anything to get out of the multiple orgasm session Sam looked to be promising.

“Nah, I think you need a reminder today.” Sam threw you on the bed and took off his shirt. The sight before you menacing and arousing at the same time. “Take it off.” He smiled at you, his head nodding toward his shirt that you wore as pajamas. You hesitated, trying to come up with any reason why you shouldn’t take off your shirt right now.

“I still have work to do before tomorrow babe. Let me finish that up first and then we can play.”

Sam shook his head. “Now.”

You huffed and took off your shirt, you nipples already hard in response to his aggression.

Sam bent down over you, his eyes tracing every bit of your curves. His hands following the contours of your body. He placed soft kisses on your breast causing them to arch further into his lips. His hands readily dip into your panties. His fingers quickly find your clit and begin to rub in a stimulating pattern. Sam smiles down at you as he notices how wet you are, how responsive your body is to him.

You whimper and look away the same moment Sam inserts a finger into your depths, you cry out at the intrusion. Sam slowly starts to pump his index and middle finger into your heat. He kisses you sloppily on your neck, your arms quickly wrap around your body. You moan and lean into him. You feel yourself start to build into something as he continues to slowly torture you.

Your climax approaches soon. You grip his shoulders tightly as he finger fucks you through your rise.

“Fuck Sam.” You whimper against his shoulder. Sam removes his shorts after you come down from your high. His dick thick and hard, the tip already weeping with precum. He lines himself up with your entrance and slowly pushes in. The sweetness that he shows you at the beginning of sex always fooling you into thinking you might get off easy.

You sighed into his shoulder as his first thrust started to build another orgasm within you. You shudder in response to the soft kiss he places in your neck. He then leans up and braces himself on his elbows, his thrust becoming deeper, sharper, rougher. You barely have time to catch your breath as Sam really begins to fuck you harshly. His eyes never leave yours as you start to pant, you move your hips in time with his.

“What’s your name?” Sam asks as he watches the way your eyes roll to the back of your head. He knows you can barely speak at times like this, he was doing this on purpose. You struggled to look into his eyes at this moment. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw how intensely he was looking at you. His thrust never slowed, every pump hitting that spot that only he knew of.

“I asked you a question baby girl.” He licked your jaw lightly. The sensation causing you to tighten around him, only sending the two of you closer to climax. You opened your mouth to respond, only to stutter over your words when he rolled his hips into yours his fingers sliding down to rub your clit.

“Nonono ffair.” You moaned out. You could feel your orgasm approaching rapidly.

“I can’t hear you.” Sam smiled a loving smile as he watched you cum on his dick. Your chest rising and falling rapidly. Your pussy tightening around him as you shook in his arms. A tear escaped as you felt Sam still gently thrusting inside of you.

“Mrs. Sam Wilson.” You say quietly as you rest your head on his hand.

“Good now let’s hear you scream it.” Sam started up his rough thrusts again.

Taglist:

@aislinnsilver @wawakanda-btch @chaneajoyyy @marvelmaree

[sipsthytea]

Burn Me (don’t ever stop burning me)

Steve Harrington X Billy Hargrove

Implied Sexual content

Toxic relationships

Smut and Angst

Open (ish) ending

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea, and yet, Steve still pulled his car into the dirt path of the query. Shifting his car into neutral, sinking down into his leather seat, lead thudding dully against the headrest. 

His body burned, vibrating beneath his clothes. It ached to be touched, to be ravaged, and it only seemed to want the seething burn of one person. 

“You there, Harrington?” 

Speak of the devil.

With a sigh, Steve reached over, clicking open his door, “I’m here,” he mumbled, “I’m here.”

Billy sauntered towards him, a hand resting on his belt loops, pulling his jeans dangerously low. Resting on his sharp hips, the slightest hint of that California tan made Steve’s mouth water. Jean jacket hanging off one shoulder, hooked around his middle and index finger, he wore sunglasses. The glint of the moon reflecting off the dark surface. 

In his ears, Steve could feel his heart pump, almost rising above the shifting water below them.

Steve melted against his car, resting his back on the cool hood, hoping it would calm his red face. 

This was such a bad fucking idea. 

But his blood was pulsing. Heat began to build within his stomach, this was a bad fucking idea, but it was such a good fucking feeling. He lets Billy saunter towards him, lets the blonde rasp in his ear, “Are you ready for me, Pretty Boy?”

Steve pulls him closer until he can feel the roaring heat of Billy filly against him. He can smell musk and sex, but he doesn’t have time to feel hurt, to feel betrayed. Because Billy is kissing him, he’s kissing him and Steve is in the clouds. 

Soaring miles and years above Hawkings, holding Billy’s hips in his hands, back pressed uncomfortably against the hood of his car, lips locked against burning fire. It hurts, but Steve can’t find it in him to care. 

He wants to be consumed by the fire that is Billy Hargrove. He wants to be burned, to scrape himself until there’s nothing left. To expose everything to this boy. Because that’s what they are, they’re boys. Billy’s not a man. 

“I’m always ready.”

And neither is Steve.

______

Steve wakes up in the backseat of his car, ass sore, marks on his chest, lips swollen, and cold. He’s always cold. The sun just barely crests the query, gliding along the water as it melts into deep purples and yellows. 

Groaning, he doesn’t bother to sit up, it won’t do him any good. Reaching beneath the seat, hand reaching around blindly until he stumbles upon a bottle of pills.

Pain killers.

He always needs a few after burning in the arms of Billy. 

His car is empty. It’s quiet. Billy’s gone, but what can Steve expect. He’s never stayed. Never. 

Curling closer in on himself, Steve curses. 

It’s so fucking cold. 

______

Billy left his cigarettes, they’re menthols. Steve stores them away in his glove box.

______

“You’re fucking dumb,” Robin retorts, tapping her socked feet against my windshield. She’s sprawled out in my shotgun seat, hands folded behind her head, eyes closed, “So dumb.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve dismisses, sighing out heavily. His neck still burns. Small scorchings and burns littering across him, Billy never quite does leave you, “I know.”

“No,” she turns to me, head lulling, “You’ve gotta stop this, dingus,” her voice suddenly goes quiet. Reaching across and resting a soft hand on Steve’s cheek, ringed fingers cold against his skin, “You’ve gotta stop.”

Brushing her away, Steve steadies himself on his steering wheel, bracing his hands, “I know, I know.” 

Because he does, Steve knows. He knows. He just can’t stop. Can’t bring himself to ever say no to Billy whenever the blonde eyes him, or when a piece of crumpled paper is pressed against his palm. He can’t say no when Billy offers to burn him, to run his scorching hands across Steve’s body, letting his heat engulf Steve until he forgets about the freezing cold that surrounds him. 

“I know, I know, I’ll stop,” he looks over, locking eyes with his best friend, “I’ll stop.”

__________

He doesn’t stop. 

Steve doesn’t stop. Being pushed against a wall, the thud echoing against the empty space of his house. Billy’s hands claw at his shirt, burning up to his hair, pulling lightly. Teeth nipping at the sharp edge of Steve’s jaw, lapping at the exposed skin. The movements make Steve’s knee’s week, causing him to slip down. 

Billy’s hand gripping his jeans tight, shoving higher on the wall, “What’s wrong, Sweetheart? Riled up already?”

Steve just whines into Billy’s mouth, blowing his words into the furnace of Billy’s body. His head is spinning, climbing high into the clouds. Body peaking, “Billy,” he groans. 

A hand grips at his neck, holding him in place, another burning hand travels into his pants, tracing the skin of his stomach. God, he’s going to explode. 

Teetering over the edge of release, Billy pulls back, a smirk on his face. That’ motherfucker.

Quite literally. 

“Tell me, Pretty Boy,” Billy smirks, blonde fringe dusting across his forehead, obscuring Steve’s view of his eyes. Wide and vast, bluer than the ocean, harder than stone, Billy’s eyes are beautiful. 

Billy is beautiful.

“Tell me how good I make you feel.”

‘You make me want to erupt,’ he doesn’t say, ‘You make me want to die in your arms.”

“Good,” he huffs, sliding down to his knees, hands sliding up Billy’s sides, fiddling with his belt buckle. 

“You make me feel…”

‘Like I’m on fire...and I don’t ever want to stop…’ He doesn’t say.

“You make me feel good, Billy,” He says.

Long story short, Steve doesn’t stop.

__________  

This time, Billy leaves his lighter. It’s small and pale blue, the handle is worn, being turned and flicked one too many times. Steve stores it in his glove compartment, scooting the cigarettes over. 

Guess he’s building a collection. 

_________

“What’s that on your neck?” Nancy asks, a curious hand reaching to ghost along his collar. Her sharp eyebrows are raised nose scrunching. 

Steve’s face goes red, he slaps a hand on his throat, cursing softly. Gess this shirt wasn’t high enough, “It’s - it’s nothing.”

“Is that a hickey?” 

Steve looks at her, it’s not like they’re dating anymore...so, he shouldn’t feel guilty, right? 

“Uh,” he fidgets with his fingers, soothing over his shirt, “Uh...yeah. It’s a hickey.”

“Oh,” she says, stepping away from him, looking down, “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

They’d patched up their relationship, realizing that they never really wanted to be together. Or at least, that’s what Steve told her, that’s what she told him. She sat across from him, hands tossing her fries around her plate. 

“I-I don’t.”

“Oh,” she says, her voice goes quiet, “Sorry…”

“Don’t be,” He says quickly, sliding back in the booth, folding his arms over his chest, “It’s not much of a relationship...so, don’t worry.”

“What do you mean?”

“I-” What does he mean? How does he explain the way he feels? How does he tell her that he’s in love, in love with burning at the hands of someone who could care less if he recovers from those burns?

“I mean, that I love her...so,” he pauses, “So, I have sex with her, but she doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“Well, how do you know?” She looks at him, hand clasped around her drink, raising the straw to her lips, “How do you know she doesn’t love you too?”

Steve scoffs, thinking back to those cigarettes and that lighter. 

“Just trust me.”

__________

It begins to add up. 

Cigarettes. A lighter. His leather jacket. His cologne. A book. Underwear. A shirt. A comb. 

It begins to spill out of his glove compartment, so he moves it into his room, shoving the items into a box.

“He’ll be back for them eventually.”

But Billy keeps leaving things. 

Pants. Chains. Rings. Necklaces. Cigarettes. Another lighter. Whiskey. Shot glasses. Another book. Shirts. Papers. Feelings. Stories. Pens. Trinkets from California. 

He leaves these fading crumbs of ember. Glowing late into the night, still searing against Steve’s hand as he drops them into the box. Buzzing when Steve tries to drift off to sleep at night. 

His collection continues to keep growing. His box catches ablaze one night.

On a night when Billy has him pressed against his bed. Hands held against the headboard, fingers twisting within him. Poking and prodding at his entrance, “You like that, Pretty boy?”

Steve can only cry out, tossing his head back, straining as the pleasure rushes through him. God, he’s on fire. He’s burning up, the embers pressing so hard against his back. 

“Tell me how I make you feel, Princess.”

It builds because all Steve can see is the hard outline of Billy’s shoulders. The soft drag of his hair against Steve’s chest sends him bowing upward, trying to find those sea-blue eyes in the darkness. 

“Billy,” he gasps.

“Hm?”

“I love you...” He whispers breathlessly. 

The fire that boils his skin, leaving him with scorch marks, goes cold. 

“The fuck did you just say?”

__________

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea, and yet, Steve still allowed himself to fry at the hands of Billy Hargrove. Doesn’t really matter anymore. 

“Here,” Robin hands him a lighter, gesturing towards his box. His collection. The embers have become lumps of coal, they’re heavy, they’re cold. Steve hates the cold. 

This is for his own good, he knows that. But he doesn’t want to do this, he can’t do this. He looks at her outstretched hand, scrunching his eyes together. 

“Robin…” He starts, his skin has been scabbed, he hasn’t been burned in weeks. It feels like years.

“Do it, Dingus,” her eyes are soft, she’s not judging. 

And he does. Flicking open then lighter, relishing in the snap and temporary warmth that radiates within his palm. He drops the lighter into the box. The embers don’t pop to life, they just hiss and smoke. 

“Are you ok?” she whispers, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. Her hands are warm, but he doesn’t need warmth. He needs to burn. 

He scoffs and she backs off. Taking tentative steps towards the small fire that began to dance in the query air, Steve sighed out. The fire moves, shifting, crackling. Steve swipes a hand through it, it hurts, but it’s cold. 

It’s so cold. 

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 4, I hate April Fools it’s coincidence

In which Sans is that kid who made you laugh in church and got you in trouble. Also, rudimentary sex ed, though probably not at the same time. Chapter can also be found here.

*returns to blaring this song on headphones at a volume between “too loud” and “nngh hit me harder”* Try it, @lostmypotatoes!

It started as soon as they left the room. The guard said his usual "Go and return safely, Your Eminence" in his usual half-respectful, mostly-bored tone, glanced over at the sound of bones clicking on the marble floor, and nearly shrieked as Sans closed the door behind him.

"S'up," said the boss monster.

The man clutched his weapon and inched far, far back, ekeing out a miniature version of "Hail, visitor" from behind the halberd shaft.

Sans gave him a big smile, looming over the poor man with his fangs on full display. Frisk raised her hand very slightly. "That will do, Sans," she said in her High Priestess voice. "You, sir. When I returned from services last night, I found my chambers unguarded. When you have finished your work today, inform your sergeant that I will speak with him this evening and learn the reason for this malfeasance. Until then, no one is to enter for any reason. Is that clear?"

Nodnodnod. Frisk folded her hands and walked as briskly away as her tight gown would allow, clearing her throat to stop Sans from waving bye-bye in the guard's face. They were at the stairwell before she permitted herself to smile under the veil.

"This's gonna be a long day," the skeleton said as they hurried down multiple flights of stairs. "You hafta do this every time ya go somewhere?"

"Correct," she said. "I dare you to try it in these shoes, too." Frisk picked up her skirt enough to reveal her high-heeled slippers.

"Hell, no. I'm not payin' for those in my size," he retorted. But as he came down the wide staircase a few steps below her, his eye sockets seemed to stay pointed at her feet for several seconds, long enough to make her wonder if she was imagining it, and remind her of the times she had caught him staring at her during their lessons.

Actually, it was hard not to wonder about several things. Sans definitely seemed penitent, and he had ignored several opportunities to escape after his initial attempt failed. That in itself was noteworthy, but then there were all those odd, multicolored looks, how he'd healed her after she'd been stupid enough to break her hand hitting him; telling Papyrus that she was "okay" – a standing ovation by his standards – protecting her, touching her face, that jokey "I think I love ya"...

Frisk shook herself. She was being pathetic. Just because she'd gone straight from a convent to an exalted position with no opportunity in between for any romantic endeavors, that was no excuse to latch on to the first male of either species she happened to spend time with! Was she really this starved for affection? Was she genuinely trying to convince herself that a misanthropic skeleton behaving with a shred of decency meant he'd somehow fallen madly in love with her in less than a week? What would she even do if he had, which he hadn't? He'll be gone soon, she reminded herself. Think of what you need to do. Be grateful he doesn't want you dead and he's agreed to protect you!

Besides, there was always the basket of letters in her workroom. Frisk wrinkled her nose, but had to smooth it out as they approached the chapel doors. She never knew who was looking closely enough to see under her veil.

For most morning services, a minor priestess was in charge of the readings, while Frisk directed the choir and gave the closing benediction. This particular morning, she walked into the chapel with Sans three steps behind, bracing herself, hoping the parishioners would be too shocked to do anything but sit and stare.

The organist was warming up as they headed to the altar, and a ripple of gasps and terrified whispers began running up and down the pews, almost in time with the music. When Frisk stationed the skeleton in a partly hidden nook and assumed her position facing the congregation, she came within milliseconds of laughing again: every face was frozen in pop-eyed disbelief, most of their mouths agape. She made the mistake of glancing at Sans, who opened his own mouth and did an impression of the shocked humans that nearly broke her.

There was nothing for it. Reminding herself that Sans was quite frightening to look at, Frisk disregarded protocol again and motioned for the priestess at the altar to move aside. The girl was happy to do so, putting Frisk between herself and Sans.

The High Priestess waited until everyone began to notice that nothing was happening, calming down enough to get curious. Then, "I beg your attention, ladies and gentlemen," said Frisk. "We are joined today by an emissary from the monster kingdom who has agreed to apprentice under me as we strive to renew peaceful relations between our nations. I beg you to put aside fear and hatred, and join me in welcoming Sans as an honored guest of Church and Crown." She turned to the minor priestess. "My apologies, Sister Olivia. Please begin."

To her profound relief, the majority of her listeners seemed thoughtful or intrigued, a few nodding slowly. Only four or five of them got up and left, which was better than she'd hoped.

To her even greater relief, Sans stayed quite still and well-behaved for the whole service. The chapel was lavishly decorated with stained glass, statuary, and an embroidered altar cloth, but as Frisk remembered all too well from childhood, it wasn't enough to look at for an entire hour. She was probably the only one who could tell how bored Sans was as the prayers wore on; she learned quickly not to look at him during the readings, because he kept making faces and forcing her to bite the insides of her cheeks. Thank God she wasn't scheduled to sing today!

The service eventually ended, and she glanced apologetically at the boss monster as people rushed up to the altar, forming a dense, fretful clot around her. The first question to make it through the hubbub was "Is this the skeleton you bested in the dungeons, my lady?"

Frisk had already fielded many, many inquiries about that incident, and had kept her answers vague. Now, knowing whatever she said would be disseminated by people who had witnessed Sans' size and non-ferocity for themselves, she could tell them, "Yes. The monsters have been suffering a famine for many years, and Sans was captured in search of food for his family. By the time I came down to speak with him, he had been imprisoned for several days without knowing what his fate would be. Monsters are not animals, and he understood very well that he would likely be killed or enslaved. He had every reason to believe I was a threat and behave accordingly. Since we reached an understanding, he has given me no reason to worry for my or anyone's else's safety."

She let them absorb that information, and it seemed to be working, though the next questions were still "Is it dangerous?" and "How do we know it won't turn on you?" Luckily, the priestess had had plenty of practice at not screaming Were you even listening?! at people, and stayed as calm, patient, and reassuring as possible, emphasizing that the skeleton was not dangerous, and was not her slave, or an "it," adding that he would remain with her for another six weeks.

That last was a deliberate lie. No one was going to take custody of Sans from her through official channels, but anyone who wanted to get ahold of him illicitly would probably make their move closer to the middle or end of his visit, after they'd gotten more information to work with; if they thought he'd be there longer than was the case, it could very well keep him safer.

She wasn't sure if Sans could hear them from where he was, but she suspected he could, because the fifth time someone asked, "Are you sure it isn't going to hurt us?" the skeleton uncrossed his arms and lumbered up to the altar, scattering humans before him like frightened birds.

"Please excuse us, everyone, and peace be with you. Thank you for your patience, Sans," Frisk told him. "Would you like to take a different route back?"

"Indubitably," Sans said, confusing everyone in earshot. "After you, m'lady." He nodded in the humans' general direction before setting off after Frisk, who had folded her hands again to conceal their shaking.

Her heartrate slowed somewhat as they crossed several hallways to the foyer connecting the chapel with most other wings of the palace. Double-paned, diamond-patterned windows reached from a few feet off the floor to the five-story ceiling, and crystal chandeliers caught the sunlight and scattered it like tiny opals across the blue carpet. The marble floors and columns had been polished to near-mirror brightness; a guard in spotless red livery was stationed at every door, with two at the foot of each staircase.

The men did double takes as they passed, but were better trained than those assigned to Frisk's room: they recovered quickly, bowing to the High Priestess and taking their cue to ignore the giant skeleton trailing after her. Each guard was lean and alert, with a sword in hand and a dagger at the hip. "I thought you were gonna sing today," Sans said suddenly.

Frisk didn't understand where that came from till she saw him checking out the weaponry and remembered the assassin's remark about her voice...and her body. Her hands tightened involuntarily. "I rarely do at matins. More people attend vespers, so we use the morning services as practice for the less experienced clergy. I'm essentially there to supervise." She stopped in front of a set of double doors so tall that Sans could walk through without ducking his head. This time, a footman scurried to open them for her, leaving the guards free to try not to stare at the boss monster. "I'm excused this evening because I...well, I was supposed to be there last night. Enough people saw me before the service that I can pretend I was there the whole time."

Sans stepped up beside her, trying not to walk too fast. "Atta girl," he said amiably. "That shit is boring."

The priestess bit her cheek again. "That's no way to speak of a holy ritual," she scolded him.

"Well, I'd rather get a hol-y in my head than hafta do that every day."

She emitted a low snrrrk that made him laugh in turn, and they might have started another cycle if someone in red-and-white livery hadn't spotted them from far up the hall and began jogging over. "Your Eminence!" the man called.

Sans moved half in front of her, but Frisk tapped his elbow and murmured, "It's all right, he's the King's manservant. Yes, Lucas?"

"His Majesty and His Holiness jointly request the honor of your presence at your earliest convenience," said the manservant, sparing Sans a bored glance.

Frisk knew a command when she heard one. "Of course." She beckoned for Sans to follow as the man turned to speed-walk back the way he'd come.

"Have you heard, my lady," Lucas said as they hurried along, "that a man was found dead in the hyacinth courtyard early this morning?"

"Oh, dear," the priestess responded, careful not to overdo it. "Was he murdered?"

Behind her, the boss monster made a very quiet noise, and she turned her head just enough to shut him up. It was almost a shame to waste her acting on one person; she doubtless would have had this conversation with her parishioners if Sans hadn't taken precedence.

"No, it seems he jumped from a great height," said the manservant. "A very great one."

Frisk shook her head with a little sigh. "What a hideous tragedy. Peace be upon his soul and those of his loved ones."

Sans was loudly silent as the servant made several rapid turns and steered them up a series of increasingly opulent staircases, though wider and more richly carpeted halls. Eventually, they reached a set of doors over twenty feet high, emblazoned with the kingdom's heraldic griffins in brass and precious stones. "Fancy," remarked Sans.

"Very kind of you, sir." Lucas stood to attention as the guards hastened to open the door, the guards calling up and down the room that Her Eminence had arrived.

Despite the oversized doors, it wasn't a throne room, or an audience chamber, barely rating the word "chamber" at all; it was just a room with a high ceiling, several expensive chairs and a table near a fireplace. But it was the King's favorite, and Frisk knew from experience that he used it instead of the throne room whenever possible.

King Stephin sat now by the fire, a gaunt, gray-haired man with strong features and dark gray eyes. Next to him was a portly, red-haired priest in richly patterned silver-and-black robes, a marked contrast to the King's plain clothing. "Your Highness. Your Holiness," Frisk murmured, bowing deeply to each in turn. She took a step to the side, sweeping her arm at Sans. "May I have the honor of presenting Sans—"

"The emissary from the monster kingdom, honored guest of Church and Crown?" The king rose and took Frisk's hand briefly, studying the skeleton with great interest. "This is a surprise, but I hope it will prove a pleasant one for all concerned. Welcome, Sans."

Sans grunted. Frisk was petrified that that would be all he did, but then he said, fairly politely, "Thanks, Yer Majesty. Sorry if I don't know how to act the exact right way. No disrespect intended, I just didn't get much training fer this."

The king laughed, clapping his hands and sinking back into his chair. "That's quite all right, sir! I haven't been to the Underground in many, many years, but I recall that my exalted counterpart prefers less formality than is practiced in our court." He shifted to look at Frisk. "So, my dear, what is true in this matter, and what is creativity?"

Frisk smiled. "It's true that I had to work to get his attention at first, Majesty, but we didn't battle for three days and nights, and no one was harmed. All I have been doing since then is keeping him in my chambers to learn herbal lore. As of this morning, I am allowing him to accompany me in my duties whenever possible so that he can learn more about humans firsthand."

"Very interesting," said the Cardinal. "I hope, Your Eminence, that this experience shall justify your asserting authority over this monster in our names, without consulting His Majesty or myself beforehand."

She half-bowed. "With great respect, Your Holiness, it was an opportunity not to be wasted. I will take full responsibility for the consequences of my actions, good or ill."

"I see. You've been instructing him in herbal lore, eh?" The red-headed priest chuckled. "And how would you rate his progress thus far?"

"Superb, Your Excellency. He's the most intelligent person I've had the pleasure of working with," she said calmly.

"Oh?" The Cardinal scowled at Sans. "Tell me, sir, what have you learned in your time with our High Priestess?"

His inflection was just condescending enough that Frisk had to bite her tongue—if this was going to work, she had to trust Sans to speak for himself.

Sure enough, the boss monster shrugged and said, offhand, "The exalted lady has instructed me in the rudiments of phytological science, with the ultimate goal of sustainable agricultural improvements. I like the part where it bubbles."

Behind her veil, Frisk couldn't keep from grinning, and it took several seconds to get it under control. One of the guards in the opposite corner coughed, and the King laughed outright. "Thank you, sir. Your point is taken," the Cardinal said stiffly.

"Sans may have valuable information to impart in turn," said Frisk. "I understand that the Underground harnesses the power of wind and sun at least partly in lieu of magic. It would behoove both our races for humans to lessen our dependence on...traditional sources."

"And with this mutually beneficial exchange of ideas and cultural intercouse in mind," Sans said grandly, "I have a request for Yer Holiness. Can you excuse Her Em'nence from midnight services and maybe some of the other ones for the duration of my visit?"

Frisk started, but allowed him to add, "The lady has a lot to teach me, and it'll take a lot of time. Besides, t'be perfectly honest, it feels weird for me to be in church with 'er. I don't wanna distract anyone, either."

The Cardinal tapped his ring of office on the table. "Your zeal is commendable, but you needn't attend services with the High Priestess. Surely you can study or otherwise entertain yourself while she performs her duties?"

Frisk raised a hand to eye level. The men sat up expectantly, and the boss monster looked confused. "Please don't be alarmed, Sans," the young woman said. "This is necessary, and I will take it down the moment we're through." She raised her hand higher and brought it down, snapping her fingers twice.

The skeleton flinched as a golden dome appeared high overhead, forming a sort of bubble around them. "We can speak freely now," said Frisk, and laid a hand on his radius. "You're all right, Sans. All it does is block sound and images."

Sans nodded, but he looked so uncomfortable that she added, "You really need to lighten up."

That got a chuckle, and he stopped fidgeting. The Cardinal and King exchanged glances, and Frisk sobered as she turned back to them. "I barely survived an attempt on my life this morning. The guard at my door was either removed or persuaded to let a man into my rooms when I was at midnight service, and if Sans had not been there, I would be dead. I've retained him as a bodyguard, but he cannot protect me if I leave him in my rooms."

"Ah," said the King. "Is that the origin of the mysterious corpse in the hyacinth garden?"

"It is indeed, Your Highness. The man didn't leave us an opportunity to ask who hired him, so I intend to act as though nothing happened. We'll see if anyone gets frustrated that I'm still alive and behaving normally."

The Cardinal chuckled, and the King gave her a little salute. "Very clever, my dear, but please clarify something for us," said the latter. "How long will Sans be here, exactly?"

"I've said that it would be six weeks, but it will actually be twenty-five days more, Your Majesty."

"Understood. Thank you very much for your service, Sans," the King said gravely.

Sans shrugged. "To be honest, Yer Highness, she's my best option at this point," he replied.

The King smiled thinly. Frisk glanced at the barrier, then said to the Cardinal, "Your Holiness, how long would it take to acquire copies of the Church's ledgers regarding a very specific class of goods?"

The Cardinal looked at Sans, who didn't know why he was being looked at, and at the High Priestess, and her determined expression. "I don't believe that's wise, Your—"

"I beg you to excuse my directness, Your Holiness, but I will have that information, with or without your intercession, and I would much rather do so without raising any suspicions, or prices." Frisk took a deep breath. "If you do, I may find I'll have enough work on my hands to consider retiring within the year. I understand that my friend from St. Brigid's has been studying for the examinations and making excellent progress?"

The King's eyes widened, and His Holiness raised his eyebrows. "Mathilda Owen?" he inquired. "Yes, actually. She should be ready for the last stages by the spring equinox." He rested his head on one fist. "Am I to understand, young lady, that you would seriously consider relinquishing your position in the near future?"

"I think it's an excellent idea, Frisk," the King said quietly. "Next week is an uncomfortable anniversary, and the Prince and I would be very unhappy to have you meet the same fate as your predecessor."

"As would I, Your Majesty," she replied, earning another little smile.

"I understand, High Priestess," the Cardinal murmured. "You may expect the records in question to be forwarded to you shortly after the Feast of All Souls."

"Thank you, Your Holiness." She looked from one man to the other. "Is that all for now, Majesty? Your Holiness?"

"I believe so," said the Cardinal, and the King nodded.

"Thank you very much," Frisk said. She glanced up and clicked her tongue, letting the barrier vanish.

"To answer your request, Sans," the Cardinal said smoothly, "Her Eminence will attend matins every Sunday, and of course the Feast of All Souls, but otherwise, you may dedicate your time to the exchange of agricultural and magical knowledge. We ask only to be kept apprised of your progress, in which Dr. Serif will also be interested."

"Of course, Your Holiness," Frisk assured him, hoping they couldn't tell how disgruntled Sans was.

They took their leave with great cordiality, King Stephin rising to clasp Frisk's hand and give Sans a benevolent nod. The Cardinal was less gracious, but clearly pleased with the conversation, smiling to himself as the great doors closed.

Frisk and Sans were most of the way back to her room before the skeleton said, "What the crap."

"You were wonderful, Sans. Thank you so much." The priestess smiled at him, earning another scowl and mumble. "To answer your questions out of order, the Cardinal has wanted me to step down for a while now. I pay too much attention to where Church funds are going, and he likes for his minions to be able to steal freely. He doesn't seem to know that Mathilda is just as scrupulous as I am, and better at math."

"Lovely. Any chance he's the one who hired the assassin?"

"I thought of that, but it's very unlikely. He's been investigated for embezzlement and similar misdeeds already, and everyone knows he and I don't see eye to eye, so my death would make him look very bad. He could even be tried for it on a circumstantial basis. At the very least, he'd have that suspicion hanging over him for the rest of his career. It simply wouldn't be worth it."

"Gotcha. And this other chick is...?"

"Mathilda? She was my best friend in the convent. I never had visitors on family days, so her parents would take me on picnics with them. We've stayed in touch, and her brother...is also kind," she said quickly, catching herself too late. "Mathilda isn't as gifted as I am with magic, but she's an amazingly hard worker, and she's been practicing the entire time I've been here."

"Good fer her, but I didn't think you could just quit bein' High Priestess an' pass it off. Ya didn't mention that the other night."

"Because I can't just quit bein' High Priestess an' pass it off," she said in a fair imitation of his gravelly voice. "I told you already, I'll have to either accept a similiar position elsewhere, like Mother Superior at a large convent, or get married. I haven't decided which."

"Right. Now, what was all that about the Church and a ledg—wait, what?"

Frisk stopped to look at him, unsure if he was joking. "It's not complicated, Sans. I can't stop being High Priestess until I either take on another role in the Church or marry someone. I can't just say, 'I'm tired of this, so I'm going to buy my own private kingdom now and do whatever I want for the rest of my life.'"

His eyes were blank, and she couldn't tell what he was thinking, so she shrugged and started walking again. "I know it doesn't sound fair, but the position of High Priestess comes with a large income, and if we were allowed to leave whenever we liked, that would encourage someone to stay long enough to become wealthy and then abandon the Church. It's happened before."

The boss monster seemed deep in thought, which made no sense to Frisk. "So," she said, "what did you think of the King?"

Sans looked at her sideways, and after a moment, he admitted, "He's not nearly as crappy as I was expecting. Is he that nice all the time, or are you a special case?"

"He can be very kind," Frisk said evenly. "I know him personally because I tutored his son for a few years. Prince Gaius has never been very healthy, and when I first came here as High Priestess, he was using his illness as an excuse to get out of everything. The King asked me to show him how I use sounds to focus my magic, so I spent every other evening in the royal suites until about six or seven months ago. I don't visit very often anymore."

The skeleton nodded. "How old's he now? The kid?"

"Eleven."

"That's it? Isn't the king kinda old to have a son that age? Or is that normal for humans?"

She didn't answer. As they ascended the staircases back to her rooms, Sans said, "And ya mean to tell me humans don't use solar or wind power for anything? You just take whatever magic ya need from us?"

"Not for long," she said, a touch of steel in her voice, and he left it at that.

To their relief, a trolley loaded with breakfast dishes had been left in front of the double doors, the guard standing ready to push it inside for her. "Thank you," Frisk said to him, making Sans go in before he could frighten the man any further. All this, she thought wearily, and it wasn't even nine o'clock yet. Sans had been right: it was going to be a long day.

~

Except, it wasn't. She changed into a more comfortable dress while Sans stretched out on the bed for a few minutes before they ate, trading egg puns and seguing into cracking the books open for a morning of study. The word must have gotten around about her visitor, because no one came to speak with her; the lesson stopped long enough for lunch, then kept right going. Sans had been getting impatient doing recipes for runny noses and papercuts, but put up with it in order to learn the basics, and Frisk was already rewarding his diligence with more interesting subject matter.

"Some of us could really use this," he said, pointing to a section on skin moisturizers. "Not me, obviously, but Pap's best friend is always gettin' itchy 'cause she keeps visiting Hotland and she's, y'know, a fish."

Frisk chuckled. "I can see how that would be a problem. Look here: do you recognize anything with aseptic properties?"

"Yep, glycerin. Makes sense t'find it here if it's a humectant, which..." Flip flip. "Yep! It's a humectant—attracts water. Can ya use it as a preservative?"

"You can, but as usual, it's only effective in certain ratios. It also depends whether it's the type made from soybeans or animal tallow. The differences are—"

And so on. They didn't stop again till mid-afternoon, when Frisk had to speak with the sergeant in charge of her guard rotation. "I offer my sincerest apologies, and I take full responsibility," Sans heard from near the door. He had been tasked with stirring the now-medium-sized cauldron in the middle of the worktable. It rested on a small base that kept it balanced and heated, fueled by a touch of Frisk's magic. "The man on duty last night relieved the previous guard at the correct time, but he wasn't present in the morning, and we haven't been able to find him. I beg forgiveness for this oversight, my lady!"

"Notify me the moment he is found, Sergeant. You are dismissed," Frisk said coldly.

The guy kept whinging about how sorry he was, and after a few seconds, Sans decided it was time to heave a huge sigh. The sound echoed in the room, and in the ensuing pause, Frisk opened the door and shooed the man out. "Thank you," she said, coming back to the table and removing her veil.

"Did I mention yer job sucks?" Sans checked the book and removed the stirrer, tapping it to shake off the last drops. "Can't ya just be a normal witch somewhere?"

"I believe I've told you before, the polite term is 'sorceress,'" the priestess answered, sniffing at the mixture. "And no, I didn't study at a convent for nearly eight years to end up as a village healer. I have nothing against them, but it'd be like a countess marrying a farmer—technically possible, and absolutely not going to happen."

Sans' eye socket twitched. Not very deep down, he felt as irritated as he had when she'd mentioned marriage on the way here, with some bonus aggravation at wasting his feelings on something that he didn't even care about because it was none of his business and he didn't care. "Here's what ya need to do," he said with forced joviality. "Hook up with a farmer or some other schlub. Piss the Church off so bad that they leave y'alone. Hire someone ta bump off Mr. Frisk an' pay the local constable to look the other way. Boom, you're free."

She didn't seem amused. "Let me think about it for a no, Sans."

The boss monster tapped his feet on the rungs of his stool and watched her put on oven mitts. She pulled over a rack of empty vials, picked up the cauldron, and began pouring it out into each one without spilling a drop. "Find somebody rich, then," Sans said carelessly. "That way, you can buy that private kingdom with his money 'n keep yers t'play with. 'Course, you'd have to find somebody first—no offense, there's nothin' wrong with ya, but I honestly dunno what yer supply 'n demand looks like. Do humans think it's weird to get with a former priestess, or...?"

Frisk put down the cauldron and considered him with a half smile, a thoughtful kind of look. "It's funny you should mention that. Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure, why not," he said, nonplussed. "What are pals for?"

That got him a real smile, one of the ones that made him forget thinking. The priestess got up and retrieved a small tray from a side table near the double doors, handing him the top envelope from a stack of letters. "I recognize the crest on this one," she said. "Open it, please, and tell me what Lord Gray wants."

Sans dutifully broke the wax seal, unfolded the expensive paper, and began mumbling out loud, "'Salutations, honored lady. I humbly request blah blah the honor of blah blah blah eternal gratitude blah your hand in marriage'?!"

There were two piles of envelopes on the tray. Frisk picked up one stack, laying them aside on the table. "These are normal letters asking me favors, claiming to be long-lost relatives, making improbable threats—the usual. These? They're proposals. All of them."

The skeleton didn't think she was lying, per se, but to her obvious amusement, he opened each one and skimmed it for certain key words, tossing it aside as soon as he found them. When he'd gone through all of them, Frisk gathered the envelopes up, went to the fireplace, and tossed the armful into the near-overflowing basket. "Dirt. I need to have someone file these for me," she grumbled. "I can't lose track of who's said what and how many times he's asked. It started when I turned twenty-one and became legally independent, and it's gotten to the point where—"

"Good fer you." Sans shifted around and thumped his elbow on the table, startling her silent. "Let's get back t'savin' the world." The skeleton flipped the nearest book to a random page. "Here, this looks crucial to the survival of my entire race. It's...what the hell's an 'oral contraceptive'?"

Frisk stayed quiet for so long that he glanced up. To his surprise, her face was bright red. "I don't think that's high on a monster's list of priorities," she said. "I keep forgetting to ask you, how's your magic feeling? I lowered that barrier when we got back, so you should start regenerating soon. You still can't teleport directly in or out of this room, though."

Sans had no idea what kind of medicine would embarrass her that badly, and made a mental note to look the word up later. "I'm startin' t'get some back, yeah. I should be able to help ya cut down on walkin' time starting tomorrow, if y'like."

"I thank you for the offer, but if makes me as sick as last time, I'd rather walk the whole castle in three-inch heels." Frisk came up beside him and flicked the pages a few times. "We need to take inventory of my supplies. I don't spend much time decanting anymore as a rule, so I'm running out of basics and don't have many specialized items on hand."

The conversation stayed along safe lines from that point on. Dinner came and went; the High Priestess offered to take him for a walk, but Sans had already had his fill of non-Frisk humans for the day and elected instead to soak in the tub for nearly an hour. He actually fell asleep for a bit, until Frisk had to bang on the door and threaten to come in and drag him out. His indifference to the idea – pointing out that skeletons didn't have any private parts – only got him in further trouble.

Later, Sans was sitting on the bed when Frisk emerged from her dressing room in her purple robe, towelling her hair dry. "Bedtime," she announced.

The skeleton yawned. "Sounds good. Want me t'check under your bed for monsters? Or assassins, or whatever?"

Frisk paused mid-rub. "Would you?" she mumbled, cheeks pink.

It was so cute that Sans had to cover himself with a big, emphatic gesture that carried him to his feet. "What'm I bein' paid for if I'm not makin' you feel safe, huh? Here." He strode out and made a big production of flinging open the office doors, revealing the empty couch and a messy desk. "Ta-da! Nothin' but the specter of bureaucracy."

"If only you could save me from that, too. Still, thank you," Frisk said, grinning now. "And I forgot to thank you for getting me out of midnight services for a few weeks. I can sleep in for the first time in months."

"Glad t'service ya." Sans saluted and turned on his heel with a grinding sound. "Night, kiddo." He went back to his room, shut off the light, and lay down, bemused at himself for calling her that. "If she's a kid, you're a real sicko," he mumbled out loud, and fell asleep wondering again what a contraceptive was.

~

They both rose late for another quiet day of study, interrupted only by meals and a trip outside before dinner. There was a lovely little terrace near the kitchens that few people used at this time of year, as there was nowhere to get out of the wind; luckily, Sans couldn't feel the cold, and was happy to stride around without worrying about banging his head on any doorways or low ceilings. The High Priestess' rooms were luxurious enough to have adequate space for him, but as weirdly satisfying as it was to play with plants and cauldrons, and as much as he enjoyed the view across the table, he had to admit it was good to stretch his legbones.

They didn't talk much outside, as Sans went to the railing to survey the outbuildings and orchards down below, while Frisk found a bench that had been in full sun most of the day. She'd brought a black cloak with red lining and a deep hood, and stayed huddled in it while the boss monster wandered around the terrace, each shooing away the occasional enterprising pigeon. When Sans came over to her with a question about the castle's layout, he noticed how tightly she'd pulled the cloak around herself and instead asked, "You cold?"

Frisk nodded, trying not to shiver.

"Well, why'n'tcha say so?" The skeleton extended his hand. "C'mon. Time to eat."

The priestess readily accepted, letting him tug her to her feet. "This is convenient," she said, still holding his hand. "The kitchens are right eep!"

In hindsight, Sans had to admit he probably should have warned her before he took them straight back to her rooms, materializing outside the double doors. "Sorry," he said to her, and not to the guard huddled in the corner. "You all right?"

Frisk tried to pull away from him and nearly fell over. "I am not all right!" She dusted herself off with one hand, the other clutching his sleeve. "You almost gave me and this poor man a heart attack, and now someone has to bring our food all the way up here!"

"Oh. Right. Sorry 'bout that." Sans shrugged at the guard, then opened the doors, letting her march into the room unaided. "But hey, yer already doin' better than last time, right?"

Frisk did not deign to answer, electing to stand in front of the fireplace to warm herself. "Right," the skeleton said. "I'll be over here."

Nothing. Her dignified, offended expression was adorable, but it reminded him that he had an unanswered question, and now would be a good time to look it up. There were a few varieties of dictionary on the bookshelves, and he selected the pharmacological one, deftly turning the pages to the middle of C.

In additional hindsight, Sans would tell himself sternly that once he found the definition he was looking for, he could probably have been more tactful than "Oh, fer crap's sake. Do humans really hafta screw that much?"

And he knew he should have anticipated the volume of her reaction, which was none for a moment, then a "What?!" that drilled straight through his skull and bounced around in it for a couple of minutes straight.

While he was standing there, eyes blank as he tried to recover his equilibrium, the beet-red priestess snatched the dictionary out of his phalanges and thrust it back onto the shelf. "All right," she said. "All right. All. Right. First things first: can I assume that you now understand what several of those recipes are intended for?"

"I un'erstand you damn near killed me," Sans complained, patting the side of his skull to be sure it was intact.

"I'm not very sorry, Sans," Frisk retorted. "Putting aside your terminology, I try not to judge monsters for having different physiologies than we do, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't judge humans. Given the way we're made and the number of children we can have in a lifetime, it's best to be able to space them out without having to give up interpersonal relations entirely."

The skeleton knew what he'd read, and what she was saying, but on some level, he was sure he'd misunderstood something. "You mean sex? Like, doin' it just for fun? Monsters know humans go at it a lot more than we do, but we always figured you just want a lot of kids."

He'd meant it honestly, which must have been why Frisk didn't kill him on the spot. She took a deep breath and said as calmly as possible, "I infer that this is not the case among monsters?"

"Hell, no. We don't toss magic around like that," he said, highly offended.

Frisk pulled the hood of her cloak back up and turned away, but he'd seen her trying not to laugh. "I don't know how much monsters are taught about human reproduction, but I can assure you that there's no magic involved, as such. It's an entirely physical process." She cleared her throat. "Monsters have to invest their magic before you can have children?"

"Well, yeah. If two monsters want a kid, it takes a lot of time and effort, 'specially if they're really different shapes or sizes They have to wanna be parents pretty bad for it to work."

"Interesting. Humans don't have to intend anything. If anything, we have to intend not to. If certain actions are taken, pregnancy can result unless specifically prevented. It's as simple as that."

Sans mulled it over. When viewed through that lens, the little he knew about human behavior – especially men's – made a lot more sense. It was bizarre and at least somewhat gross, but it made sense.

The priestess was still facing the fireplace. "Is it the same for boss monsters?" she asked, failing to sound casual.

The skeleton didn't know how to answer that, and the silence was getting awkward when they heard a knock on the door. "Heyyy, din-din," he said brightly, rushing to open it and scaring the life out of the poor woman pushing the trolley.

By unspoken accord, they didn't revisit the subject. He was pretty sure she was still thinking about it, though, and when they parted for the night, he had to admit that it was kind of funny—each of them obviously wanted to ask the other more stuff, but wasn't going to be the one to bring it back up. Maybe tomorrow, he told himself, not believing a word of it.

The barrier against external dreams was still up in the bedroom, but that night, he had one on his own. It was pretty simple: he dreamed he was a priest of some sort, but mostly a farmer? Anyway, he lived with his wife and several kids who kept going in and out the door and getting older each time they came back. Every time they did, he also got a little older, but his wife didn't; the more wrinkly he got, the more she laughed at him, pinching his face and offering to make him oatmeal or prune juice. He didn't mind, though. It was impossible to be mad when she was so sweet about it.